


Glowing Blue

by shuckingwolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark fic, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Spark Stiles, Violence, death of teenagers, pack problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuckingwolves/pseuds/shuckingwolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is who you’re with now? Vargas and his pack?”</p><p>“Stiles, leave. Leave right now if you know what’s good for you.”</p><p>Stiles was furious, his temper rising with every word out of Derek’s mouth. Who was Derek to give out lessons on self-preservation now? </p><p>“It doesn’t matter what’s good for me. It’s about what’s good for the pack.”</p><p>At Derek’s blank look, Stiles was so infuriated he felt like he was trying to talk sense into Coach Finstook. </p><p>“DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT THEM?”</p><p>Derek’s teeth ground together. He tried desperately not to look at Stiles, otherwise his resolve would fade.</p><p>“My past is dark, Stiles. Don’t dig into it.”</p><p>He glanced up then, his eyes wide with something that Stiles would swear was honesty but Derek would probably deny it if asked. They held gazes, Derek’s begging and Stiles’s furious.</p><p>“And who is this?” Said a voice behind them.</p><p>Immediately, Derek let loose a roar, the sound angry and loud in this enclosed space. He stepped closer to Stiles and Stiles was all for that, backing up a few steps until he was behind Derek and facing the leader of the pack. Vargas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is admittedly based from ideas when I listened to 'Glowing' by The Script. Honestly, when I first listened I got all these ideas for Sterek and I couldn't leave the ideas alone. So credit to that song and The Script because that's where I started out. Give it a listen-it's awesome!
> 
> Also, special thanks to 1dinthetardis (tumblr blog) for list of villain names to pick from! You're amazing, thanks for the help:)

Derek stood in his flat, looking out over the city, over the small lights in Beacon Hills. A hollow feeling filled his chest, ran through his veins, hurt his soul. He knew what this new arrival meant; he knew what these new people were after, why they had arrived at all. He also knew that he couldn’t tell his pack. He closed his eyes in dread at the prospect, even as his resolution formed.

Then, miraculously, he was saved the job of leaving in the darkness, leaving in the quiet of the night. Someone unlocked his door. He turned around, arms folded, the usual annoyed expression in place. Stilinski. He might have guessed. The kid, more of a young man now, had made copies of keys for all the werewolves he knew. Just encase. For such a small town, there was a surprising amount of danger. You could never know where it could hit, or when. It was hitting home to Derek, and it was here now. 

“Stiles. What are you doing?”

Stiles grinned, running a hand to check his hair was in place, before shrugging and flopping onto Derek’s settee. Derek tried not to click his tongue in annoyance. The settee would smell of Stiles but that wouldn’t matter. Derek would be gone by then. 

“Cora said you weren’t answering your phone.”

Derek frowned.

“Where is she? And Peter?”

“Fine. Helping Scott train up Isaac.”

Derek nodded, his eyes lost in thought. He still felt bad for losing his last beta, that Isaac had chosen Scott over him, that Scott had chosen winging it over him. Still, Derek supposed Erica and Boyd were both dead and that wasn’t exactly a selling point. He glanced at Stiles, realising that he was being watched intently. Studied. 

“You’re going to do something stupid aren’t you?”

Stiles’s voice was soft, his expression lacking the usual enthusiasm and energy. He simply looked concerned, his hazel eyes watchful.

“It’s not stupid.” Derek said through gritted teeth.

Stiles looked at him. It was the kind of look somebody gives you when they know you’re lying but they also don’t want to call you out on it because they know it will be a painful subject. 

“I’ve got all night. My dad’s got the night shift. I’m all ears.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, looking towards the door pointedly. Stiles decided to ignore this, staring instead at Derek, his eyebrows were raised too and he was doing a much better job at making the other person relent. After a few seconds of intense silence, Derek sighed. 

“You know that new rival hunter family the Argents have been dealing with?”

“Yeah.” Stiles said slowly, nodding quickly for Derek to continue. 

Derek shrugged.

“I might know them.”

“Oh god, it’s not the I might know them that means you might have killed a family member is it?”

“They might have killed mine.”

Stiles gawped, his eyes blinking as he processed the information. Derek liked Stiles’s eyes. They were hazel, like leaves in autumn or warm honey. Immediately after Stiles had taken this in, he patted the space next to him on the settee. Derek sighed, rolling his eyes, with his arms crossed. 

“Come on big guy. Let it all out.”

Derek fixed him with his best annoyed glare.

“I know you want to tell someone. You may be angry at the world but hey, you still have hope it will cut you a break.”

“Fine.”

*

Stiles was unbelievably and undeniably drunk. It was half one in the morning and he didn’t regret the drink. Derek’s life story was the saddest thing he’d heard in a long time. They were both sat on the settee and so far Derek had explained about Kate, how she’d betrayed him and his family had burned and screamed and it was his entire fault. He had explained how he’d been desperate after Paige, after her death, to redeem himself. He spoke for hours, his voice rough and faint during the early morning. Then, at last, he explained it all.

“When the fire happened, I didn’t care about redemption. I was angry at the hunters. I went to a powerful pack and I asked to join.”

His tone was bitter, his eyes cast down. Stiles, for once, was hesitant to ask. 

“What did they say?”

“They said yes. They were starting a new scheme for werewolves. Werewolves whose eyes glowed electric blue.”

“Like you.” Stiles said, pointing at Derek’s face with a grin.

“Like me.” Derek agreed, nodding. 

“Why?” Stiles asked, his voice like a curious and loud child. 

“To turn us into the ultimate killers. The best pack. They gave us some…funny stuff to drink.”

Stiles nodded, his eyes laughing. 

“Like this.” He gestured to the bottle in his hand. 

“No. Not like that, Stiles.” 

And then, for the first time since Boyd’s death, Derek Hale cried. Stiles watched, silent tear tracks ran down Derek’s face and he glanced up at Stiles. 

“I killed so many people. Now they’re back, looking for me. That’s why hunters have moved next to the argents, to keep an eye out. To kill me before I kill others.”

“You won’t.” Stiles said, his voice quiet, sleepy but still sincere. 

Derek nodded. A few minutes of silence passed. Derek startled, realising Stiles had fallen asleep. He sighed, closing his eyes as well, leaning his head against the settee. For once, his heart didn’t feel so heavy. Yet, he hadn’t told Stiles everything and he didn’t plan to. 

*

The morning light filtered through the window, spilling into the almost barren front room of the flat. Derek stirred, his chest breathing in the morning air, his eyes opening slowly. He glanced around; surprised he was on the settee. He hadn’t remembered moving from the window. He looked to his left and froze. 

Stiles was there, sleeping with half his limbs dangling off the edge of the settee and the other half at uncomfortable angles. Derek’s mouth opened a little with surprise. When had Stiles arrived? He thought back, realising what had happened, what he had said, what he had to do.  
It didn’t take long to gather his things. It took even less time to walk out of the door. He looked back once, his eyes settling on the teenager contently snoring on his settee. It pained Derek to leave without a goodbye, to leave at all.


	2. Where

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles isn't letting Derek go that easily, but Derek isn't planning on staying either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it! All feedback welcome :) I really like this chapter, although it's longer than I'd planned!

A few hours later, Cora knocked loudly on the door.

“Derek! Derek! Open up!”

Stiles startled, accidently falling off the settee, crashing to the floor, scrambling to pull himself up. Frantically, he glanced around. Derek wasn’t here. Where was he? Stiles glanced into the kitchen, called up the stairs. Nothing. Nobody.

“Stiles? Is that you?” Cora didn’t sound that surprised.

Stiles didn’t dwell on it, although he found it odd as he opened the door and she smiled at him knowingly. She raised her eyebrows.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Wh-yeah, I guess. Have you seen, Derek?” Stiles asked.

Cora’s dark eyes abruptly became serious, worried. The trouble in her tone showed she was concerned. When Cora was concerned, there was definitely a problem. When she was angry, maybe. When she was concerned, definitely.

“Stiles. What. Do. You. Mean?”

Stiles glanced around, realising that the furniture in the flat was even sparse than it usually was. He gaped, his brown eyes widening with realisation. Derek had left. But why? Stiles’s thoughts instantly jumped towards the past, hazy conversation. Of course, Derek would think he should leave so he wouldn’t endanger anybody, especially his pack. Stiles rushed past Cora, itching to do something, running for the exit, for his trusty Jeep.

“Stiles! Where is he?”

Stiles turned, pausing at the door, his face as white as a sheet. His hands shook at his sides. Derek could have walked straight into danger, thinking it was the safe path. Nothing was safe in this supernatural world. How could Derek be so stupid as to not know that?

“I don’t know.” Stile’s voice cracked.

Cora stared at him for a long, intense moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. Her eyes held such sadness to them that Stiles didn’t want to think about it. She’d just found Derek, her long lost brother, and now he was gone again. Yet, Stiles knew Derek would never leave Cora unless he thought it was necessary, unless these hunters and this old pack really meant business. Stiles licked his lips nervously, nodding at her in return, before reaching for the handle, jerking the door open, and stepping into the rain.

*

Derek pulled the Toyota to a stop, sighing deeply, Beacon Hills disappearing in his rear mirror. He didn’t want to leave his car here, yet his pack would trace the car’s scent. They weren’t dumb. So, he left it in the car park next to the train station, knowing it would get towed after a few days. Resolutely, he walked towards the train station.

It wasn’t that grand on the outside, only a few detailed carvings in the pillars, a massive wooden door which looked like it belonged in the middle ages and the marble flooring stood out to Derek. He walked through the door, taking in the inside of the train station.

The place was packed, people bustling in humongous crowds, the usual commuters standing with bored expressions, the inexperienced teenagers panicking one moment and squealing with excitement the next. Derek spotted the ticket station and headed towards it, determination in his eyes. He came to an abrupt halt after three steps.

A small child stood in front of Derek, grinning. The small boy was wearing a red jumper, jeans, trainers and his hair was in a bowl cut, his brown eyes staring imploringly at Derek. He couldn’t have been more than three. Derek stared back, surprised. The boy’s grin widened, he reached a small arm in the air and pulled down twice.

“Choo, choo!” He laughed.

Derek, despite his usual demeanour, smiled with amusement. Then, a desperate mum came through the crowd, grabbing the boy’s hand and tugging him away. She gave Derek a reproachful look. Derek had to admit if he had a child he wouldn’t want them talking to strangers dressed in clad leather. As the mum hissed at the boy in disapproval, he turned his face back to Derek. Seeing Derek was still there, he beamed.

“Choo, choo.” He called.

Then, they were gone. They had been whisked away with the crowd. Derek booked a ticket in the station, but he didn’t really know where he was going. It was a train to another place, a few towns over, he’d probably get another once he arrived. He stood on the platform, shivering in the morning air, the sun pleasant but not too warm. Luckily, his jacket sheltered him from the bitter cold and wind. The train chugged along the tracks, coming to a screeching halt next to him and the other passengers. Derek heard the ‘choo, choo’ and knew he should step on-board.

*

Stiles saw the parked car as he drove. He let out a noise of irritation before driving quickly onwards, knowing the closet place of transport Derek would have chosen. A train station.

Stiles, unlike Derek, didn’t give time to think about the architecture and decoration of the place, as much as he’d like to. His thoughts were on the ticket desk. He rushed over, surprised he didn’t fall on the marble flooring, and breathlessly waited for the woman behind the desk to look up. Once she did, she fixed him with a piercing look through her huge lenses.

“How can I help?” She asked, her voice sharp at odd intervals.

“Did a man buy a ticket here an hour or so ago?”

“Yes. Lots do. Is that all?”

“No! No, um, he would’ve been taller than me.”

Her eyes squinted in suspicion. Stiles raised his hand, gesturing the height that Derek was, his knees slightly bent as if to empathize how tall Derek was in comparison. When the woman wore the same blank look of confusion, Stiles let out another irritated noise before miming putting a jacket over his shoulders, whilst speaking once more.

“He probably was wearing a leather jacket? Come on, you must’ve recognised him; he was on the Beacon Hill’s most wanted last year! Derek Hale?”

The woman’s mouth dropped and she nodded quickly, her eyes betraying her fear. Stiles flung a hand up in her direction.

“Thank you! He’s innocent by the way. Now, which train?”

*

Derek stepped off the train and sighed with relief.

So far, everything had gone smoothly. He supposed he should have guessed that nothing ever did for him and why had he expected it would be different this time? He heard Stiles shouting behind him. Derek shook the sound. Perhaps, it was a trick of his eardrums. Yes, that was it. He was simply hearing what he wanted to hear. He had sub-concisely been hoping that somebody would protest and run after him, beg him to stay.

“Derek. Turn around.”

Derek didn’t. He carried on walking at a slow, measured pace. In all honesty, he had no idea where he was heading for. However, he was going to get there, somewhere safe and secluded, one step at a time.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

Derek rolled his eyes in annoyance. That sure did sound a lot like Stiles, suspiciously so. He didn’t look around. His eyes glinted with determination and his pace quickened. Maybe it was simply his sub-conscience projecting his fears and stresses. That was it.

“I had to get a train for you, alright buddy? So slow down and talk.”

That was definitely Stiles. It wasn’t just Stiles either. It was an angry Stiles. Derek usually smirked when Stiles had spoken to Peter or Jackson like that. He’d never given much thought to how it would be on the receiving end. In fact, Derek wasn’t liking it. He growled loudly, startling a passing woman.

“Stop it, Derek. Just come back. We need you in Beacon Hills.”

The tone Stiles was using, that little break of his voice…Derek’s foot faltered in his stepping. What had he ever done to deserve to be talked to so kindly as that? Derek thought of the pack he was leaving behind, of his family, of the face he refused to look at now. He wanted so badly to see it one last time before he started his new life, before he let the danger pass over those he cared about.

“Just…Derek, stop with all of this. Okay? You don’t need to be the Harry Potter to our Hogwarts!”

Derek stopped walking, stunned.

“Harry Potter to your Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, you know, preparing to die on your own to save us. Totally not needed here.”

Derek sighed and carried on walking, ignoring the prescience behind him. Which was increasingly difficult to do. With each step, he heard Stiles’s heartbeat, smelt the desperation clinging to him along with all the familiar smells of that annoying, clever, determined teenager. Healthy food. The oil of the Jeep. Fabric detergent. Pencil. All the things which told Derek a friend was there, right behind him, and he should turn around and talk to them. Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke the opposite words he wanted to.

“Stop stalking me, Stiles.”

“No. Not until you get your werewolf ass back home.”

Silence. They carried on walking, the people all around them seemed insignificant, in the way that people always consider strangers when they’re so consumed with their own problems. Stiles was always a few paces behind. Derek huffed, beginning to get irritated.

“I will file a complaint.”

“My dad’s the Sheriff, buddy.” Stiles scoffed.

Derek’s built up rage and annoyance was what snapped his resolution. The irony was not lost on Derek, even as he realised he’d whirled around to face Stiles. The infuriating teen was smiling with something close to being smug.

“Thank God. You walk really fast to keep up with.”

Derek let a low growl loose from his throat. It said something for their relationship when Stiles simply ignored this. Derek scowled.

“So, where are you going?”

“That motel.”

“And then?”

Derek fumed in silence. Stiles shrugged, walking ahead into the motel. He leaned against the front desk, Derek frowning grumpily behind him. The man at the desk glanced up.

“Room for two?”

Derek opened his mouth to ask for two separate rooms but Stiles was already taking the keys.

Derek was positively glaring as they ascended the stair case, walking along the second floor corridor. Stiles gave him a sideways glance, as if weighing up his reaction. He must have deemed it okay enough to explain.

“These places con people Derek. Two separate rooms would cost more. We can easily fit into a double. Or you could take the floor. It’s cheaper. Don’t fall for the economy trap!”

Derek rolled his eyes, only slightly annoyed. Stiles was smart, Derek had to give him that. They found the room, walked inside and dumped their bags. Stiles glanced at Derek.

“I just need to make a quick call, ok?”

Derek nodded, setting about the task of unloading the few things Stiles had packed in his rucksack. At least Stiles had thought to bring a change of clothes, unlike Derek. He’d have to buy some later. His good hearing picked up some of Stiles’s conversation.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine, Dad. We just need to get this sorted. He’s not right…not since Erica and Boyd.”

Derek almost choked.

“I’ll get him back. I promise. Be home before you know it. I’m not joking! Okay, bye. Stay safe. Love you.”

Derek pretended to be busy ordering the room about. When Stiles came in, he glanced up with one eyebrow raised.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah.” Stiles’s heartbeat picked up slightly.

*

Derek was already contemplating how to ditch Stiles. It was only six o’clock. The teenager had insisted they went out for food, to ‘cheer him up a bit’. Derek had merely grunted but Stiles had decided to take that as agreement. They had picked a place a few streets over, which apparently served the best pizza ever. Derek was always careful with his weight, his physical form, but he would drop it all for pizza. Every time. Who wouldn’t? Stiles most have known that, known it would make Derek more comfortable, but so far the teen hadn’t taken advantage and addressed the elephant in the room. However, he ate so much like a wolf that Derek was tempted to ditch escaping the pack and ring Peter just to check Stiles hadn’t acquired the bite under any ‘mysterious circumstances’ recently.

“So.” Stiles said around another mouthful. “What’s the plan?”

Derek was silent. He didn’t know if Stiles meant in general, for the pack, for both of them, for tonight, for tomorrow. Silence was the best option. Stiles didn’t think so. Of course he didn’t. He flung a hand in Derek’s direction, as if empathising his next point.

“It’s like talking to a brick wall!”

“My plan for what?” Derek gritted out.

“For where you’re going to go?”

Derek pursed his lips and stared determinedly out of the window. Stiles sighed, at last swallowing his mouthful of food.

“You really haven’t thought this through, have you?”

Derek snorts, turning back to face Stiles, to rise to that challenge. He can’t help it. He’s guilty enough as it is; he doesn’t want to be concerned or responsible for Stiles now as well.

“And you have? Just one spare change of clothes?”

Stiles laughed, but not in a really humorous way. It was the laugh he gave Scott whenever they had a bet and Stiles was already sure he would win, scoffing at the idea of otherwise. Derek had learnt to be wary of that laugh. Usually, Stiles won the bet.

“Oh, no. Do you really want to play that game when you didn’t even pack any clothes?”

“How would you even-“

Stiles nods slowly, his eyes laughing.

“That’s right. I checked. I’m not the Sheriff’s son for nothing.”

Derek stared at this, not sure what to say in response. He hadn’t brought any spare clothes. Stiles was right about that. Stiles lent forward, slurping his coke, he took a refreshing breath afterwards. The type which literally sounded like ‘ahh’.

“Dotting the I’s and crossing the t’s.” He said, winking at Derek.

The werewolf rolled his eyes, signalling for the bill. They exited the pizza joint and started the small walk back over to the motel. Derek walked with his hands in his jean pockets and a scowl on his face. Stiles was loping along beside him, grinning.

“Man, I could’ve ate there all night.”

Derek smiled a little.

“I know you could’ve.” He said simply.

Stiles smirked, as if this was a fact he was extremely proud of. They turned a corner and a small drizzle of rain started, dampening their clothes.

“Hey, at least it’s a light showe-“

It promptly started to pour down with rain, great lashing strikes of it which accompanied a cold, bitter night well. Derek sighed before reaching a hand out and pulling Stiles closer. Stiles yelped but then he was being nestled into Derek’s side, Derek’s warm leather jacket wrapping around them both. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing.

“Thanks.” Stiles said, his voice quieter than before.

Derek nodded, not saying anything else. They reached the motel in companionable silence. As they trampled inside, the man behind the desk looked up with a beam. Stiles ducked his head, moving out of the shelter of Derek’s jacket.

“Your room was cleaned.” The man informed him.

They nodded at him and walked on. Derek took the key out of his pocket and opened the door to their room. Stiles let out a sigh of relief. The place was heated well enough by the radiators, the warmth much bigger than the main reception, which for some reason had air conditioning still on. Instantly, Stiles flopped on the bed and heaved a contented sigh. Derek closed the door and, upon seeing this, raised an eyebrow demandingly.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry dude. I can just sleep on the…”

Stiles looked around for a settee but realised there wasn’t one.

“-floor.” He finished lamely.

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Budge over.” He relented.

“Seriously? Thanks. That’s really cool of you.”

He gave Derek a surprised but appreciative look. Then, he seemed to realise he was staring. He nodded quickly, like he was settling some matter. Derek ignored this, simply taking off his shirt and climbing into bed.

“Uh, okay. I get that we don’t have pyjamas but you know physical condition isn’t my strong point so, uh, no judging eyebrows, okay?”

Derek didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. He simply flicked the TV on with a switch of the remote. Stiles took his shirt of and hastily scrambled into bed next to Derek, leaving enough space between them to be comfortable.

“Oh, cool. Doctor Who.”

“Why is he wearing a feze?”

Stiles shrugged.

“Fezes are cool.”

*

Stiles had fallen asleep half way through the re-run of Doctor Who. Derek found it a little more difficult. He didn’t trust his self-conscious not to give him a nightmare about all his recent thoughts and doubts. Despite his adamant protesting, he was glad that Stiles was here. It was comforting to have somebody close who was like pack, even if he wasn’t technically. Scott was his own alpha, an alpha to his friends, to Stiles. Derek missed his own pack, his own family. Cora and Peter. He knew better than to pine for them, which would make this worse. He put those thoughts out of his mind and closed his eyes.

When he woke again, he was screaming and Stiles was shouting at him, leaning over him and shaking him.

“Derek! Derek?” Stiles’s voice was desperate.

Derek closed his mouth, the quiet startling after so much noise. His throat felt like it was scraped raw. Stiles moved out of his personal space, back onto his side of the bed. The lay in silence for a while, nobody saying anything. Their breathing was the only sound in the room.

“It was a memory. About the powerful pack.”

Derek took a shuddering breath.

“Vargas’s pack.”

“What did you dream?” Stiles’s voice is quiet, like he’s scared of the answer.

“The first few days of being accepted into the pack, the scheme, was horrible. They kept us all together. Some of the people with blue eyes liked the fact they had blue eyes. If you get what I-“

“I get what you mean.” Stiles said, his voice tight.

“They were powerful, wanting to be dominant. We’d fight with each other endlessly. In the first few days I started fighting, in the nights I healed. It was a continuous circle. Then, it ended. That was what I dreamt about.”

“Derek, what do you mean it-“

“I mean Vargas and his hierarchy betas walked in and killed those who weren’t ‘up to scratch’.”

Derek turned over on his side, his back to Stiles. Clearly, the talk was over. Stiles was desperate to know. How many had died? What was it about Derek which made him up to scratch with their ideals? Instead, he sighed and turned over on his back too.

*

Stiles woke in the morning. He yawned sleepily, stretching out his arms and legs, realising he was taking up all of the bed. That in itself was odd because wasn’t Derek here-

Stiles’s eyes flung open.

“Crap. CRAP.” He muttered as he stumbled out of bed.

He didn’t bother with the shower but took a few moments to actually put some fresh clothes on. He didn’t even need a rucksack anymore; he had no more items to put in it. He left it with the dirty clothes, in the middle of the floor. Hurriedly, he dialled Derek’s number. It went straight to answer message.

“Derek! Where the hell are you? Call me back.”

He put his phone back in his pocket and faked a massive, sunny smile for the woman who was taking morning shift behind the desk. She was in her thirties, looking bored, with bags under her eyes and her hair coiled into a bun. She seemed more sleepy than suspicious of Stiles’s frantic behaviour.

“Hey, um, did a guy leave here a while ago?”

She shrugged.

“Lots of people do. It’s a motel, after all.”

Stiles tried to calm down his impatience. He needed to find Derek before the alpha did something stupid.

“Wears dark leather. Scowls a lot?”

The woman’s face cleared with understanding.

“Oh, yeah, him. He didn’t leave that long ago. Maybe half an hour ago?”

“Did he say where he was going?” Stiles asked, with the demeanour of somebody who is trying not to panic and failing.

“He didn’t ask for a taxi so not far.” She said shrugging.

“Thank you!” Stiles said.

He was half falling as he slapped a hand on the desk for emphasis, before hurrying the direction of the door. She cleared her throat.

“Will you be paying for your stay?”

Stiles stopped, turned his head sharply and squinted at her. This was not the time for mundane things like paying, he had to save Derek’s ass right now! He tried to keep his tone even.

“Will you be apologising for your sass?”

She gave him a blank stare. He muttered incoherent things as he dug in his wallet, the woman caught the words ‘Derek’ and ‘cheap werewolves’ but merely sighed. She could tell her shift was going to be long already. Stiles left, running out of the door and down the street. He didn’t know where to go.


	3. Vargas's pack.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek tries to amend his mistakes but makes a new one instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-ho let's add fake relationship to the tags.

Derek stood stock still as Vargas’ right hand man, or rather wolf, circled him in human form. Ianto was a tanned man, with dark eyes which did equally as good a job of judging as Derek’s eyebrows did. Ianto’s eyes turned from dark to electric blue, flashing his status at Derek. Derek was slightly smug as he showed his red, alpha eyes in return. Ianto moved backwards a few steps, involuntarily.

“You’ve changed, little one.”

“I was young before. I’m in control now. I want to see Vargas.”

Ianto gave a polite, most likely fake, gesture. His arm slowly pointed to the side, and Derek realised he meant alpha first. Derek let out a small huff and walked through the main door into the building.

*

Stiles was in the middle of an extremely painful talk.

“So, uh, like is he tall?”

“Vaguely.”

“And, does he like have this really cute beard?”

“It can get kind of scruffy actually.”

“Yeah, he went that way.” The girl pointed to a building.

Stiles nodded his thanks and hurriedly crossed the road. The building looked like a run-down flat block. Closer to, Stiles realised that it actually was. It had a sign and everything. He looked around, unsure what to do. Should he just walk in? At that moment, his phone rang.

“Oh, yeah. Hi, Cora. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

Stiles glanced around, nervously licking his lips.

“Wha-? So you can hear my heartbeat through the phone now?”

“No, Stiles. You’re just a terrible liar.”

“I’ll have you know I was lying to my father for a long time about all things supernatural.”

“Yeah and now your dad knows. Go figure.”

“Shut up. I’ll ring you later.” Stiles ended the call.

He felt on edge standing around outside, anybody could glance out the window. He didn’t know why Derek had gone into this building, or whose it was, but it couldn’t mean anything good. Stepping foot in the building felt like entering enemy territory. Stiles ignored the feeling and took the first door on his right. It was a toilet.

*

“Wait here.” Ianto instructed.

Derek inclined his head in acknowledgement. The other werewolf glanced at him wearily before walking out of the door. The room Derek was in was spacious. It was also incredibly modern in comparison to the furnishings in Derek’s loft. The place brought back painful memories but Derek suppressed them. This was the reason he’d come here. He’d get to talk to Vargas soon. Then, the door opened. Derek waited with baited breath, anticipating the moment when his old alpha would walk in and regard him coldly.

It didn’t happen. What did happen, however, was Stiles tripping into the room with his haste. At least, he had the presence of mind to close the door behind him.

“What the hell, Derek? What is this place?”

Derek was instantly at his side, looking around for any of Vargas’s pack. His eyes were glowing red.

“Stiles. What. Are. You. Doing. Here.”

“Well, I didn’t wake up to breakfast in bed that’s for sure. I will put Cora on the phone if you don’t answer my question! I’m serious.”

Derek ran a hand over his face, massaging his temples. It was too early in the day for this. Quietly, his voice straining with the effort of being calm, he explained himself.

“This building belongs to Vargas and his pack.”

Stiles gaped, looking around with an utterly flabbergasted expression. Finally, his gaze settled on Derek. It wasn’t a particularly warm gaze. In fact, Derek would describe it as full of open hostility.

“This is who you’re with now? Vargas and his pack?”

“Stiles, leave. Leave right now if you know what’s good for you.”

Stiles was furious, his temper rising with every word out of Derek’s mouth. Who was Derek to give out lessons on self-preservation now?

“It doesn’t matter what’s good for me. It’s about what’s good for the pack.”

At Derek’s blank look, Stiles was so infuriated he felt like he was trying to talk sense into Coach Finstook.

“DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT THEM?”

Derek’s teeth ground together. He tried desperately not to look at Stiles, otherwise his resolve would fade.

“My past is dark, Stiles. Don’t dig into it.”

He glanced up then, his eyes wide with something that Stiles would swear was honesty but Derek would probably deny it if asked. They held gazes, Derek’s begging and Stiles’s furious.

“And who is this?” Said a voice behind them.

Immediately, Derek let loose a roar, the sound angry and loud in this enclosed space. He stepped closer to Stiles and Stiles was all for that, backing up a few steps until he was behind Derek and facing the leader of the pack. Vargas.

The man was middle aged. He had a neatly combed hairstyle, dark hair parted like a page boy’s. His grace was evident in every step he took. He had a few lines of anger or stress indented permanently into his forehead but there wasn’t a hint of fury in those watery grey eyes now.

“Derek. It’s good to see you again.”

He made a bee-line for Derek; giving him a hug which Stiles was sure rivalled Draco’s and Lord Voldemort’s. He didn’t say anything as Derek drew back, partially because he knew how much Derek hated hugs but partially because he was a little scared of Vargas.

“To answer my previous question…?” Vargas said, politely enough.

“This is Stiles.” Derek said bluntly.

Vargas raised an eyebrow. Maybe that was where Derek had learnt it. Stiles watched as the two alphas stared intensely at each other, each trying to read the other’s thoughts.

“He is human. I haven’t heard of the Hale family acquiring human pack. Is he of importance, or…?” Vargas let the sentence trail off.

Stiles froze, seeing that the alpha’s eyes had drifted towards his betas, Ianto and another man, named Theo. Derek growled involuntarily. It was instinct. He knew Stiles shouldn’t have come. He’d simply wanted to move on, to settle his past mistakes. He couldn’t face the pack when he was putting them in danger by being there.

“Yes. My mate. Incidentally, we do acquire those.” Derek snarled.

“Of course. My apologies.” Vargas bowed his head.

Derek nodded, moving to stand closer to Stiles just encase. Stiles was secretly wondering how Derek thought they could ever pull of a fake relationship in front of such a dangerous wolf pack leader. Obviously, he didn’t voice this aloud to Derek.

“It makes sense. Our sources told us you arrived yesterday, had a meal and booked a room for two.” Theo informed them.

Derek narrowed his eyes.

“Protocol.” Vargas said, a brief, cold smile on his face.

Stiles shivered. The smile hadn’t looked natural. Derek pulled Stiles closer at this, and the way the other wolves were analysing their behaviour together, one arm hooking around Stiles’s waist. Stiles breathed in the scent of Derek’s leather jacket and tried to remain calm.

“Shall we discuss the nature of your visit?” Vargas asked.

“I came to ask about Brega.”

Vargas’s face cleared with understanding.

“Ah. Yes. She sadly lost in battle. Brave woman.”

Derek narrowed his eyes, noticing that they didn’t say which battle, or why there had been one. He highly suspected they had killed her.

“Is that jealousy your mate smells of?” Ianto asked.

Theo tilted his head, considering.

“Or fear?”

“I think it’s anger. Yep. Pretty sure.” Stiles said, his voice shaking with rage.

Derek held his breath. Luckily, Vargas only laughed at the stupefied faces of his betas. He smiled at Stiles, yet it was still cold, feral, nothing but pretence. He pointed a finger at Stiles, who fought the urge to yelp.

“I like you.” Vargas chuckled.

Stiles swallowed nervously. Derek tried desperately to steer the conversation back to Brega and away from Stiles. He made a valiant effort of it.

“I was hoping I could give her my thanks…for her teaching.”

Vargas nodded in understanding.

“She was a ruthless teacher. But now you are an alpha! Just like our scheme had planned. Who was it who bit the dust?”

“My uncle.” Derek admitted.

The two words barely comprehensible through his gritted teeth and clenched jaw. Theo frowned.

“I thought he was alive.”

“Long story. It’s been difficult not to kill him all over again.” Stiles muttered.

Vargas laughed again, smiling at Derek with something horrifically close to pride. Derek felt like squirming but instead he pulled Stiles closer, inhaling the scent of comfort and familiarity which Stiles brought with him. Derek had decided. Vargas hadn’t told the truth about her being dead. It had been too vague a truth, a way to escape a lie. Vargas hadn’t specifically said she was dead. Derek would have to search for answers elsewhere. Perhaps, others involved in the killer scheme, people like him, would know. He walked forwards, as if to head for the door, but Theo and Ianto blocked his way.

“Not so fast, Derek.” Vargas said calmly, as if he was being reasonable.

Derek turned himself, and Stiles with him, around to face the other alpha.

“We still haven’t talked about you.”

Derek growled. Vargas ignored this. He gestured to Stiles.

“And him.”

“What about it?” Derek snarled.

Stiles glanced round, Theo and Ianto were too close for comfort, blocking the doorway. There was no other way out. His heart was hammering as he turned back to face Vargas.

“Well, have you considered a bite? We’re starting another scheme, you know. We need volunteers.”


	4. Volunteers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Werewolves love volunteers. Especially with the name Stiles.

“You know, I’m not really the Katniss type.” Stiles said, glancing at Derek.

The alpha was roaring at Vargas, his teeth and claws exposed. What Vargas had been insinuating was out of question. It would never be in question. Ever. Vargas tilted his head, smiling, as if considering Derek and finding him amusing.

Theo and Ianto moved forward, silent as mice, creeping forward to snatch the cheese. Or, in this case, Stiles. Stiles yelped, struggling and kicking at them. Derek launched himself at Theo, pushing the other man to the floor with his force. They grappled there for a while, jaws snapping, claws swiping. Stiles still struggled with Ianto, kicking the man in the groin and hearing a satisfying groan in response. Vargas stood apart from the chaos, his eyes coldly assessing the situation. He didn’t intervene. He seemed amused by it all.

That is until the door crashed down, with such force that it broke off its hinges. In the threshold stood three people. Derek recognised them all. Brega was one of them. She stood in the middle, snarling at Vargas. Her raven-black hair had been grown down to her waist since he’d last seen her. She still had the same dark, merciless eyes. Beside her, were two other men, both were Derek’s age. Kian and Shawn. They both had bulging muscles to rival even Derek’s own, but as they roared at Vargas, they caught sight of Derek. They smiled, caught off guard, even as they lunged for Vargas’s throat.

Immediately, Ianto and Theo backed off of Stiles and Derek. They ran to the aid of their alpha. The room was a mess of werewolf fur, roars, whines and growls. Derek walked forward, his brow furrowed and the glare he usually reserved for Peter on his face. Stiles ran towards him, placed a hand on Derek’s chest. Derek glanced at him, raising both eyebrows demandingly.

“Don’t you think you’ve lost enough fights this year, big guy?”

Derek growled but Stiles was already heading for the door. No way was he staying in a room full of angry werewolves. Not today, thank you very much. Derek stared after him, even as the door closed. He thought furiously in his mind, trying to reach a decision. He couldn’t leave Stiles alone. The idiot would get lost. Huffing in annoyance, Derek followed him.

He found Stiles further along the corridor, debating whether to leave or not. As soon as he saw Derek, he pushed the door open and walked through. Derek tried to reassure himself that Stiles had been relieved to see him, although he couldn’t be sure.

Once outside, the fresh air hit him from all angles. He breathed it in deeply.

“It’s not weed, you know.” Stiles joked, despite his annoyance at Derek.

He was leaning against the building wall, arms crossed but grinning at him. He couldn’t help but speak, if an opportunity to poke fun at Derek was there then he would always take it. Derek merely rolled his eyes; he didn’t think Stiles would tolerate a glare right now.

“You want to explain what that was about?”

Derek shook his head, looking away from Stiles. Of course he didn’t. How could you explain years of built up hatred and self-loathing telling you that its source was in the same room? How could you explain the urge to kill that came with it?

“Because I’m pretty sure you were about to go for her throat.”

The door opened at this and Brega stood in the threshold.

“Come now, Derek wouldn’t do that.” She tilted her head at Derek. “Would he?”

Derek’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer her. She laughed softly before raising an eyebrow and walking back inside. Clearly, this meant they were meant to follow. Stiles let out a noise of frustration before walking back inside, Derek hot on his heels.

She led them back into the room. Ianto, Theo and Vargas weren’t there. Kian and Shawn were. They were wearing tight smiles when Derek and Stiles walked in.

“Where’s Vargas?” Derek demanded.

“Scarpered off. Unfortunately. I would have liked to question him.”

Stiles couldn’t help himself. He considered himself a curious soul.

“About what?”

That earned him a glare, from Derek, which would have frozen the sun. Stiles simply shrugged. Brega laughed. Stiles took some comfort in the fact that it sounded whole, unlike Vargas’s had.

“Curious thing, aren’t you? About the volunteers.”

Her gaze slide over to Derek.

“Why did he think your mate would make a good one?”

“I don’t know.” Derek’s teeth were gritted together as he spoke.

Brega shrugged, moving to perch on the desk. It was coated in dust but she didn’t seem to mind. Everything in this room was made of oak and extremely old. Stiles hadn’t even noticed his surroundings before, he’d been so angry at Derek. However, he was starting to get an idea of what sort of villainous werewolf Vargas was. The old fashioned type. In Stiles’s opinion, the slyest ones of them all.

“I know you want to kill me, Derek. We overheard everything. Your voice held aggression at my name, but your mate was fearful.”

She glanced at Stiles, a smile on her face.

“Wise choice.” She stage whispered.

Stiles stared impassively at her, wondering if it was reasonable for punching somebody because they irritated you. He had wondered that frequently when Jackson had been around. Back then, when Jackson had insisted Stiles risk his dad’s life, he had decided that yes, it absolutely was. Then again, this was a new alpha. Her eyes glowed red, Kian’s and Shawn’s were blue. The killer betas to their mudering alpha. Cute.

“Then why are we still talking?” Derek growled, his claws out at the ready.

“Because I’m interested in volunteers too.”

*

Stiles felt nervous as he waited for Derek in the motel room that night. They had moved across town, to be nearer to Brega’s pack. Derek had been gone a long time. Stiles hoped he was ok, despite the fact this was all Derek’s fault. At seven o’clock, the door to their room opened.

Derek stepped inside.

But so did Vargas, Ianto and Theo.

Immediately, Stiles stood to his feet, confusion on his face. Derek wouldn’t look at him. He kept his gaze trained on the floor. Vargas smiled. It was a smile of an enemy.

“Derek…what is this?” Stiles managed, choking on his words slightly.

Vargas answered for him.

“This is us, welcoming you to the pack.”

He nodded discreetly at Theo. Before Stiles had a chance to open his mouth, a claw swiped across his stomach. He shouted out, stumbling into the bed.

After that, it was easy for them to manhandle him.

*

Stiles came to in a car with tinted windows. Vargas was driving; Theo was in the passenger seat next to him. Ianto was in the back with them, but the furthest from Stiles. Derek was sat in the middle, next to Stiles. He was glaring at Ianto, presumably for some remark he’d said before Stiles had woken. As Stiles stirred, his eyes dropping instantly to his wound, Derek shifted in his seat towards him. He had his arm out, ready to take away the pain, and an anti-bacterial swipe of some sort in his other hand.

“Here. Let me help or you’ll get an infection.”

Stiles turned his back on Derek, his head resting against the car window, his arms crossed over each other. He glared at Derek’s hands. His next words felt like a punch in the gut, then the face and finally the groin to Derek.

“Either way.”


	5. Finding the truth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things go well, others don't. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting darker than I thought so fair warning, this chapter contains death (sorry!) but considering Vargas's pack, past and personality, it may or may not be shocking.

They arrived back in the building, one Stiles was beginning to hate with a passion. They stepped out of the car. Vargas led the way inside. Nobody said anything. Not even Derek. Stiles tried to shake the feeling of unease, but it was already settling deep in his stomach for the remainder of the week.

They didn’t enter the room they’d been in before. Vargas led them to the left, up a set of stairs, down another corridor, up another set of stairs, and finally took the first door on his right. They all followed him in. This room was plainly decorated, with five bunk beds attached to the wall. There were four other teenagers, all around Stiles’s age. Stiles didn’t like it. Not at all. He barely restrained himself from shouting at Vargas.

“These are werewolves. Born and turned ones.”

“More volunteers?”

The girl on the furthest end of the line growled, her blonde hair moving as she took a step forward. Stiles couldn’t use any other word to describe her smile than feral. Next to him, Derek was shaking. Stiles knew why and felt a pang in his own heart. She looked too similar to Erica to be treated with indifference.

“Calm down, Molly.” Ianto rebuked her.

She snarled one more time before stepping back in line, her eyes darting around. Despite all her bravado, Derek recognised what she was now. She was scared. He had been like that once. It took a lot of effort to turn his head and look at Vargas again.

“You said we weren’t turning Stiles.”

Stiles glanced quickly at him, a question in his eyes, or maybe a warning. Derek ignored it either way.

“We aren’t. Derek informs me that you have a…what was it, Derek?”

“A spark.” Derek said flatly.

“Ah yes. One of those. I wouldn’t want to compromise that, but I am interested in helping these four werewolves to reach their ultimate potential, you understand.”

Stiles looked so unsure that it was obvious he most certainly did not understand. He voiced his doubt aloud; they could all see it on his face anyway, read his emotions well enough.

“What has that got to do with me?” He said slowly, the words coming out careful instead of angry.

“The same way Deaton helps Derek, that’s what you’ll do. We want to help everybody here reach their full potential. Even you.”

“So I just help them?”

Vargas shrugged.

“More or less.”

Stiles took a deep breath before nodding.

*

Derek had gone out for a run. Or so he had told them.

Kian and Shawn greeted him happily enough, although their nose wrinkled with the smell of an enemy. He had been in the lion’s den minutes before. He sat down in the cafe, seven streets over. He wasn’t taking any chances. Brega slide into the booth next to him, smiling.

“How’s it going?”

“Well, they believed it.”

“Great.” Shawn said, nodding enthusiastically.

“No. Not great.” Derek growled. “Stiles is in a dangerous situation.”

“He’s safe enough. They need him. The spark.” Kian said, raising his eyebrows jokingly.

“Enough. Derek and his mate have agreed to help. We don’t mock that.”

Brega’s eyes were glowing red as she glared at Kian. He whimpered slightly but Derek inclined his head, as if to say it was fine. Brega leaned forward on her elbows, looking directly into Derek’s eyes. She wanted the whole truth.

“What are they planning?”

*

That exact question was driving Stiles insane as he lounged in his top bunk, one leg dangling over the side. He’d been introduced to them all. Molly he knew. The guy next to her was called Drake. He looked precisely like those stereotypical ‘badmen’ Stiles saw outside Tescos now and then. His head was shaved roughly and there was a mean glint to his dark eyes. The other guy was called Chow. Stiles didn’t know much else about him. The kid said he’d been taken from his home country in China, especially for this scheme. It was important. Chow kept himself to himself, lazing under the bunk below Stiles. The final werewolf teen was a girl called Jasmine. She wore her hair long, red lipstick, and she had a blunt manner. She was confident, even more so than Molly. Stiles hadn’t been sure that was even possibly, but apparently so.

“Stiles, why did they pick us?” Chow asked quietly into the silence.

“They’re making you all into amazing alphas apparent-"

“No, why us?” Jasmine asked abruptly.

She was suddenly at the side of his bunk, leaning against it and into Stiles’s personal space. Stiles flailed slightly before regaining his cool.

“I don’t know. You might not die so easily?”

“What do you mean.” Drake’s right eye squinted. _“Die?”_

Stiles tried his best not to shiver with revulsion; although he was sure he failed by the further suspicious squinting Drake gave him.

“I know someone who did this scheme last time. Or one similar.”

“Is he an alpha now?” Molly asked, observing everything with contemplation on her face.

“Yes.” Stiles said warily. “It’s not fun and games you know. He gets his ass kicked on a regular basis.”

Jasmine scrunched up her nose, walking away from the bunker and towards Drake. She stared at Stiles with equal suspicion. Clearly, this was not something she’d been promised when she’d volunteered. Before she could say anything, however, the lights went out.

“I guess that’s bedtime then.” Stiles muttered.

He slept on the side away from the wall. He didn’t trust these werewolves and he wanted to see what they’d do. He was rewarded a half hour later when Molly braved it to the door. She glanced behind her before opening the door and walking out. Stiles was scrambling after her, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Once he’d opened the door, he realised he was in the corridor he’d walked through this afternoon. He squinted, seeing glaring blue eyes up ahead.

“Oh my god!" Stiles jumped. Who did you kill?”

Molly approached, her form becoming clearer as she grew nearer.

“Does it matter? That’s why they want us.” She hissed.

Stiles shook his head.

“No. That’s why they can manipulate you.” He whispered back.

“Are we talking about Vargas?” An inquisitive voice asked behind them.

Stiles physically jumped in surprise, earning a quiet chuckle from Molly. He turned around, glaring at Chow. Chow shrugged, grinning proudly at the fact he’d noticed something was going on.

“No. We’re talking about unicorns. Of course we’re talking about Vargas.”

Molly rolled her eyes. It struck Stiles again how alike she was to Erica. He bit his lip, looking away.

“What? Why do you keep looking so upset with me, Stiles?”

“Probably because you wonder off in the middle of the night!”

“That’s bull and you know it.” She said, her volume rising.

“Guys.” Chow reminded them.

Stiles nodded before gesturing with his hand. Molly understood. He wanted them to go back inside. She growled before flaunting off in the other direction. Stiles grumbled as he walked after her, Chow following close behind.

*

Derek returned from his ‘run’ when it was dark. Maybe that would raise a few eyebrows but he was confident he could fool Vargas. He’d say he was feeling uncomfortable giving his mate over to such a scheme; Vargas would fall all over him after that. Derek nodded to himself as he walked through the door to the building. The whole place was in darkness. It brought back a sharp panic inside him, one familiar from years ago. He suppressed it, moving through the darkness with his red eyes glowing. Even so, he didn’t see them until he’d walked straight into them.

“Stiles!” Derek hissed.

“Oh, hey, Derek. How’s it going tonight?”

“What the hell are you all doing out of bed?”

Molly rolled her eyes.

“Sheesh. Cool it, pack mum.”

Derek turned his head, ever so slowly, to her and his alpha eyes glared in annoyance. She dropped her gaze, looking at her shoes. Strangely enough, it was Chow who spoke back up.

“We’re searching for why they picked us.”

Derek gave him a look which clearly insinuated he thought the teen was mad or dumb.

“For the scheme. They told you tha-"

“No. Why us.”

Derek gritted his teeth. He used to think about that a lot, spend his hours worrying over it. He had come to the eventual conclusion that it was because he’d killed so young. It was easy to instil the instinct to climb the wolf ladder of importance after you’d already proved you were dangerous.

“Why do you think? Now, come on. Back. To. Bed.” He hissed.

His patience was wearing thin. Usually, it was Scott who brought this sort of reaction out from him, or maybe when he trained his betas. Molly and Chow looked grumpy at the prospect. He raised an eyebrow and they turned back around, clearly not wanting to offend an alpha. Stiles hung back with Derek, walking at a slower pace.

“Did you talk to them?”

“Yes. They were pleased. Just…be careful.”

“Will do.” Stiles said, somewhat too cheerfully.

“Stiles.” Derek growled. “For once, _be careful.”_

Stiles arms flailed about, his expression one of exasperation, as he gestured to Derek. His tone was indignant.

“Says the one who freaking walks into the home of their enemies! What the hell were you thinking, coming back here? Dragging me with you?”

Derek tried, only a little, to contain his rage and irritation.

“Dragging you with me? You agreed to this, Stiles. Remember?”

Stiles topped walking in the middle of the corridor. Derek stopped too, to match him. Stiles crossed his arms over each other, glaring at Derek.

“Enlighten me, buddy.”

Derek shrugged because he couldn’t remember the exact words. He knew he’d sound stupid. He glanced at the floor and then back at Stiles, obviously defiant about the topic of conversation.

“Something about Hogwarts.”

Stiles burst out laughing, which earned a menacing scowl from Derek. He couldn’t help it. He was holding his side, hoping that he wouldn’t get a stitch.

“Would you just be quiet?” Derek growled.

Then, a scream broke the air. They glanced along the corridor. Molly and Chow had reached the door. Chow seemed frozen to the spot with shock but Molly was rivalling Lydia with her scream. It wrenched through the air, a blatant call of horror and for help.

“No point now.” Stiles said, shrugging in reply to Derek’s earlier question.

Derek led the way, not bothering to reply. They sped through the corridor and arrived at the threshold of the room within seconds. Molly didn’t say anything. Her chin was wobbling. Chow pointed a shaky finger but Derek saw instantly what he meant. He felt dizzy with familiarity and the threat of overwhelming memories flooding his mind. Behind him, Stiles had gone stock still, his eyes holding sadness in them, his lips slightly parted with confusion.

Drake and Jasmine lay in their bunks. Their lips were blue, their skin deathly pale and both their chests had been slashed at. By claws.


	6. Sparking anger.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles try to answer the nagging question of 'why us' but somehow also manage to get on the bad side of some of Vargas's pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I would have uploaded this sooner but I had to finish reading another fanfic (Divided We Stand-it's so good like whoa all the feels I can't even) so I wanted to make this chapter a bit longer. Also, this plot was bugging me for houuuuurrrss. I really, really hope I got it right? As always, let me know what you think, it's important so I can make it as good as it can be which is my main aim. Thanks to those who have already!

Derek let loose a roar of pure rage and anger. He turned around to face Stiles, pointing at Drake and Jasmine.

“We were supposed to stop this, Stiles! And then you decided to go for a midnight wander-"

“Hey, that was Molly’s idea!” Stiles shouted back.

Molly had finished staring in horror and was averting her eyes. At this accusation, she glared at Stiles.

“Screw you.” She snarled.

At Stiles’s shocked expression, and gaping mouth, she smiled sweetly. She turned her gaze to Derek, tilting her head.

“Oh, that’s right. He already has.”

Derek roared, stalking towards her. In retaliation, Molly let her claws out, her teeth bared and her growl welcoming the threat.

“Stop! They’ve heard us. You know they have.” Chow said, stepping between the two angry werewolves.

As if confirmation of this, the door handle turned. Vargas walked into the room, flanked by Ianto. Theo wasn’t there. The tension in the room intensified.

“Oh my. What a waste. Went for each other did they?” Vargas inquired.

Derek glanced away from Vargas, sure he’d strangle the man if he kept eye contact for long enough. Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Where’s Theo?”

Vargas settled his eyes on Stiles; they gleamed as if a thought had just occurred to him. He frowned faintly, another pretence. His next words didn’t answer Stiles’s question.

“Derek, Stiles. My office, if you will.”

Stiles glanced at Derek, but the older man wasn’t giving away anything. Molly opened her mouth, about to say something in protest, but Chow grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the centre of attention. Derek and Stiles followed Ianto and Vargas into a dimly lit room, with a large desk, an even larger bookcase, and two uncomfortable looking armchairs. Vargas sat behind the desk, Ianto hovering by his shoulder. He gestured for Stiles and Derek to sit down. They didn’t.

“It’s come to my attention that Derek was in the bedrooms of volunteers, yes?”

Derek frowned. Vargas took this as confirmation. He smiled tightly.

“Obviously, I have not fully considered the need and want a mate has…”

Stiles’s jaw dropped. Derek stood on his foot. Stiles quickly closed it.

“So. There is a room further down the corridor which may help with this. Although, I would still like you, Stiles, to be in the volunteer bedroom at nine o’clock each morning. Understood?”

“Uh, yeah.” Stiles said.

Ianto tilted his head, considering.

“Were you there when they died?” he asked Derek.

“No. The urge to see Stiles was…well, you know how it can be. But then…I scented something in his emotions. Horror. Fear. I came at once.”

Vargas nodded, as if this was exactly what he had expected. Stiles didn’t miss the look of knowing which he gave Ianto. They were up to something. Ianto smiled amusedly at Derek’s statement, particularly when he mentioned the urge to see Stiles.

“I’m surprised you can keep your hands to yourself.” Ianto mused.

Vargas didn’t say anything, but his expression looked horrifyingly like he was re-evaluating the situation. Derek knew that privacy with mates wasn’t exactly needed; a werewolf could smell a mile away what the two mates were feeling or had been up to. He nodded, turning to Stiles seemingly calmly. Stiles glanced at Vargas and Ianto with a confused look, when he turned to face Derek the werewolf was glaring in warning. Stiles understood. Go with it. Derek tilted Stiles's face, two fingers on his jaw, and kissed him slow and steadily. Stiles’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected that, or Derek to be so good at it. He held onto the kiss, even as Derek parted from him. The stupid werewolf was smirking. Vargas was beaming, nodding at Ianto as if to prove some unspoken argument. Stiles noted to himself that they should be careful around Ianto then. Derek gave them one last nod before reaching for Stiles’s hand and leading them out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Vargas turned to look at Ianto.

“See. I told you it was real. You think someone as experienced as me wouldn’t sense a real connection?”

Ianto considered this, scowling with displeasure.

“It may be a real connection, but they may not know it.”

Vargas laughed at that, a cold sound.

“There are a lot of things they don’t know.”

*

Derek and Stiles were silent as they walked down the corridor. They didn’t dare speak, encase of CCTV. As soon as they closed the door to their new room behind them, Stiles let out a torrent of words.

“Oh my god, they so killed them! I could practically smell the evil on them, don’t say you can or I’ll punch you.”

Derek shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Stiles paced up and down, his eyes reading the air; he was re-thinking everything which had led to this point like it was a book.

“Theo wasn’t there. I bet it was him. Oh, and you had to say it was a mate instinct, nice going there, buddy-"

“They wouldn’t believe anything else.” Derek growled.

“Yeah, well now we have to kiss in front of them, and don’t get me wrong you’re amazing at it, but you know, I really need to be in a room with the people whose lives are in danger.”

Derek frowned at that. Stiles sighed with exasperation. What didn’t Derek frown at?

“No. Then, you’re in danger.”

“Oh my god! Seriously? Like you give a freaking dam-“

“I do. And Scott would kill me.”

Stiles snorts at that, nodding in agreement, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah. He totally would.”

He mellows at that thought, realising that they are both in danger. He’d only wanted to get Derek back to the pack. Derek had only wanted to make sure the pack wasn’t in danger but then Stiles was there, running round corridors in the dark with teenage werewolves who had blue eyes. Not exactly as planned, like normal. Stiles sat down on the other side of the bed, perching there with a sigh. He rubbed a hand over the back of his head in frustration.

“This is dangerous, Derek. They killed two teenagers.”

Derek’s jaw clenched, remembering his youth and the dark nightmares which still plagued him.

“They’ve killed more than that.”

Stiles glanced at him, his expression close to desperation. It wasn’t a sight which Derek was used to seeing on Stiles. He didn’t like it there.

“Why them? Why you?”

Derek took a deep breath. He’d thought Stiles would have told himself the risks of this supernatural world before but, even so, Derek would oblige. It was the least he could do.

“The world is fine, Stiles. It’s the people in it. It’s just what happens-”

“No. Not that, you idiot.”

Derek raised his eyebrows at Stiles’s frustrated tone.

“Why the people with the blue eyes? Why the ones who’ve killed before? No, offense but surely they’d be the ones who would make the worst alphas.” Stiles paused.

He gestured at Derek. “Case and point.”

Derek snarled with annoyance. Stiles sighed, as if he was dealing with a toddler.

“Come on, when was the last time you won a fight? Exactly. But this…this is stupid, Derek. These are teenagers being fed some promise and it’s not…”

“Not real?” Derek supplied.

Stiles nodded, looking to the door again.

“They’ll be okay for tonight, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded, sighing as he flopped on the bed. He didn’t bother changing. Neither did Derek. The exhaustion of the night’s events was too much to bother. Stiles had a feeling that the mystery surrounding this place, the fact two werewolf teenagers had been murdered, meant that Derek would sleep literally with one eye open. He was right.

*

The morning broke like any other. Stiles turned over and sighed again.

Derek was gone.

*

Vargas leaned forward on his elbows, smiling at Derek. It was just the two of them and Derek was beginning to remember how much he had hated this man’s face.

“I asked Ianto to wake you because I think we need to talk.”

Derek tried not to roll his eyes.

“About?” He asked brusquely.

“About why your run lasted so long. I almost thought you had run away, or gone across to Brega’s pack!”

“She lives a while away.”

Vargas’s pleasant smile vanished in a fraction of a second at this comment. He leaned forward, his face holding white rage.

“Not if you’re fast.” He spat.

Derek shrugged nonchalantly, trying to keep his heartbeat even, to mask his panic and lies, to anchor himself. He was used to thinking of anger to do this, to use it to his advantage. He found he only needed to think of his excuse, which puzzled him. He dismissed it.

“Stiles was on my mind. I was having doubts about his role in this scheme.”

“I give you my promise that he is safe, Derek.”

Derek nodded, standing to his feet with the correct assumption that the meeting was over. He left the door open simply to annoy Vargas.

*

Stiles walked into the room with the bunkers with a wary mind. He didn’t know what to expect. He sighed with relief when he saw Chow and Molly sitting on their bunkers, both worrying into the silence. At the creak of the door, their heads snapped up. Molly’s eyes glowed blue instantly, a snarl of warning ripping from her chest, up her throat and into the tense atmosphere. Stiles held his hands up in mock-surrender.

“Just me.” He said.

Molly glared at him, standing to her feet and walking over.

“They moved the bodies.”

“Who?” Stiles asked quickly.

She raised an eyebrow at his urgency, but replied without comment.

“Theo.”

Stiles nodded. He was almost certain it was the Hench-man. Wasn’t it always that way? Before he had time to comment, however, the door opened. Ianto walked in, breathing in the scent of last night’s death and the blood soaked sheets like it was the smell of a fresh morning.

“Good morning. Today you will all be participating in a little exercise, to check your need for brutality.”

Stiles stored that information away later. He’d talk to Derek about it. Ianto glanced at him, an amused smirk on his lips.

“You will watch on the side-lines. If one of them decides to draw on the aid of your powers, you may help them. Although, that’s if they are able to do so.”

*

The breakfast dinner was far too retro for Derek’s taste. He sat with Brega, Kian and Shawn again. They listened attentively to his tale of the night, one he was fairly sure Stiles would retell on Halloween next year. Derek left out the detail of him and Stiles faking a relationship, managing to sound outraged at Vargas’s lack of trust. When he told them about how Ianto had practically demanded a show of affection, Brega’s whole pack was growling with anger on his behalf. That was something.

When he had finished, Brega was frowning. Derek forgot sometimes how much he hated her. Studying her face, the face of somebody who had been in charge during his darkest days, he remembered his hatred surprisingly fast. He tried to push it down but her wary look showed she could read his emotions. She didn’t comment. It was Shawn who commented first.

“I’m glad you and Stiles are ok. I wouldn’t, we wouldn’t, want anything to happen to you and your mate because of this. I’m still not sure we should carry o-”

Kian leant on his elbows, towards his pack member.

“If you say carry on I will rip your throat into shreds. They’re inside! This is perfect!”

Shawn opened his mouth to say something in retaliation but Brega was already speaking, her eyes never leaving Derek’s.

“Nobody else gets killed. We are doing this to bring it all to a halt.”

Derek nodded in acceptance. After a second or two of silence, excepting the horrible noises of appreciation Shawn made as he devoured his waffles, Derek spoke again.

“It’s occurred to me there must have been a reason you changed your mind about Vargas’s pack.”

“I found out something.” She glanced away as she spoke.

“Anything you’d like to share, boss?” Derek said, a half-mocking, half-charming smile on his face.

She smiled back, knowing how crafty Derek could be if he wanted to. She’d heard about his brief spell on the most-wanted list. It took a lot of charm and discretion, maybe a few fights, to pull that one off. She didn’t trust him. Her voice was crystal clear, as was her answer.

“No.”

*

As Molly roared, fast approaching Chow, Ianto smirked. Stiles stood next to him, on the side-lines, fuming.

“This isn’t divergent, you know!” He snapped at Ianto.

The werewolf glanced at him with amusement.

“If you ask me what that is, I will punch you.”

Ianto chuckled.

“How…endearing.”

He smirked as he gauged Stiles’s reaction, his predictable anger. Meanwhile, Chow had Molly in a headlock and she was struggling to breath. She struck her elbow into his stomach and he went sprawling on the floor. Molly stood to her feet, eyes glowing blue with fury. She stalked over to Chow, like he was prey. Stiles knew she’d seriously injure him at the least. Chow looked too stunned to try and ask Stiles for help, or to get off the floor. He was a sitting duck.

Stiles thought of what Deaton had said, of being a spark, of magic. He still found it difficult to believe any of that. Yet, he tried. For the sake of these two not killing each other, he tried. It was like a shockwave rippled through the air, knocking Molly off her course and throwing Chow further away from her. Even Ianto stumbled a little. Immediately he glared at Stiles.

“They didn’t call on your help.”

“They needed it.” Stiles said, his voice dangerous.

He rarely got this angry, sometimes with Jackson or Peter, but not this badly. Ianto seemed to be sharing the same problem, although not the same restraint. He snarled, his canine teeth appearing, his claws growing out of his nails. Stiles swallowed nervously, searching for a weapon. Before Ianto had taken one step closer, Molly and Chow were ripping at his clothes, trying to distract him. Ianto swatted them like flies. He raised his fist and connected with Stiles’s jaw. Stiles tumbled a little, hearing Molly roar with anger and then, over that, a much louder roar. His brain dimly reminded him of the Lion King, when Simba tries to roar but his dad out does him. He dismissed the thought, blinking away his dizziness with it.

Derek was here. And he wasn’t happy.

In fact, Derek was currently in the process of ripping Ianto to shreds for laying a hand, or a fist as it were, on Stiles. Strangely enough, seeing Derek push Ianto into the wall and watching the other werewolf break through brick at the sheer force, gave Stiles hope. Not only because Derek was actually winning a fight for once. Derek was also showing that he cared for people who were his friends, like pack.

Derek turned back, satisfied with the fact Ianto had back off, scarpered into some corner to hang his tail in shame. Immediately, he’d crossed the distance between them, his hand hesitating by Stiles’s jaw. Stiles swatted it away, smiling.

“You care.”

Derek frowned.

“Of course I do. He punched you in the face, Stiles, that can’t just-“

“No, you care.”

Derek huffed, realising how much significance Stiles was putting behind this.

“We are not discussing this now. Or ever.” He said sternly.

Stiles merely shrugged, not exactly an agreement. Molly and Chow groaned as they stood to their feet, walking over to Derek and Stiles Molly was looking at them strangely. Stiles understood, even if Derek merely glared harder at her for it. Stiles squeezed Derek’s butt, earning a snarl and a look which, given the appropriate power, would send anybody to hell.

“Thanks Der-bear.”

Derek glowered at him. Molly laughed, but Derek realised how more at ease her emotions were. His face cleared with understanding. It was comforting to know Stiles wasn’t just doing that to be annoying.

“Now, we talk over it. In our room.” Stiles says, leading the way.

*

Vargas, Ianto and Theo stood in Vargas’s main room, where he had talked to Derek and Stiles last night. They were all too tense to stand. Ianto was considering going for a run to release some tension. Although, certain matters had to be discussed first.

“You may have hear-”

“I think the whole street heard.” Theo growled with disapproval.

Ianto snarled at him but Vargas waved a hand for him to continue talking.

“Derek and I had a fight. I punched his mate.” Ianto explained, expression blank.

Vargas’s fury was back. Theo cowered a little, stepping back even though the rage wasn’t aimed at him. Vargas paced once in front of Ianto, like a lecturing parent.

“How many times?” He hissed. “I told you they had a real connection, you didn’t believe me and now you’ve planted a seed of discord amongst us!”

His anger seemed venomous, pouring out of each word with a lucid sting. Ianto whined at the alpha eyes directed his way.

“I…only…reacted…because…Stiles…”

Vargas returned his eye colour to the usual pale, watery grey. His anger vanished instantaneously, in favour for his curiosity. Ianto breathed more easily, his chest not feeling tight, the tension leaving his muscles.

“Stiles used his spark to break up the fighting exercise. He didn’t approve.”

Vargas raised an eyebrow, whilst Theo’s furrowed together with confusion. After some minutes of quiet, Vargas spoke again. One word which triggered so many.

“Explain.”

*

Derek, Molly and Chow were all sat on the bed whilst watching Stiles pace. Chow was sat cross-legged on one of the pillows, Molly lay down on her front with her legs swinging in the air behind her and Derek was perched on the edge of the bed.

“So. There are a few things which bug me.” Stiles began.

“Do you want a list?” Molly asked in a bored tone.

Stiles ignored this. He stopped pacing, finally, and turned to face them.

“The first question is-"

“Why us.” Chow interrupted.

Stiles nodded, biting down on his lower lip with concentration. Derek stared before dropping his gaze and trying not to pay any attention. Beside him, Molly laughed again. This brought Stiles back to attention. Fortunately for Derek, his sole focus was that nagging question.

“The point is that werewolves with blue eyes, the killers, aren’t always the rational thinkers. Especially when they’re young. Not exactly alpha material.”

At this, Molly seems personally insulted. She leans forward into a crouch on the bed, like she’s ready to attack Stiles with one smooth pounce and a raised claw.

“I’m rational enough to know who is getting on my nerves.” She snarled.

For a moment, Stiles seems honestly stunned. He’d thought they were making progress, learning not to hate each other. Derek saw the confused, scared teenager in both these werewolves. Even Molly. He used to see it in himself and others all the time. Yet, Molly could not get away from threatening Stiles in front of him. Derek was on his feet, crouched in front of Stiles with his teeth barred. He was growling at her. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Totally melodramatic, aren’t they?” He called over to Chow.

Chow looked positively frightened to death of this new turn of events. He managed to nod twice, fast. Derek growled one more time before straightening out and sitting back down. Molly pulled a face but flopped back down onto the bed, winging her legs again.

“The second thing is Ianto mentioned a need for brutality.”

Derek nodded at this.

“They said that to my group in the scheme too, but everyone killed each other eventually.”

“Okay, so that’s a total lie. If you’re brutal you actually kill each other. But why would they want brutal ones to die?” Stiles asked aloud.

Derek heaved a sigh. He looked Stiles straight in the eye. He knew it made sense, considering his own past and how poor a job he's done in alphahood.

“They want the ones who did it by accident.”


	7. Accidents happen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, Derek, Molly and Chow have their work cut out for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people of the fandom! :) So I know some people in the fandom were upset/angry over an interview and regardless of any views I thought some more sterek fanfic might help:) take a nice, big chapter :)

Molly roared at this accusation, standing to her feet and back up against the wall, like Derek had personally insulted her. Which, upon reflection, he realised he had. Chow simply bowed his head, refusing to look them in the eyes.

“Is it, uh, true? You killed people by accident?”

“I’m a killer. I don’t need to explain-” Molly started.

Derek held her eyes for a long minute, staring intently at her.

“Yes. You do.” He said calmly.

Stiles raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. Derek was calm, which was always a plus. He glanced at Molly for her reaction. She took a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes looked anywhere but at them.

“Yes. Alright. It was an accident. I…I didn’t mean to…I lost my control….”

Derek nodded, as if this made sense. He knew she’d attempt at chewing his head off his he explained that she was young, it was expected in some cases. It wasn’t uncommon. Instead, he turned, slowly, to Chow. He raised an eyebrow.

“I…kill….that’s it.”

“Sorry, what? You missed a few words out there, buddy.” Stiles joked, grinning.

Chow closed his eyes with dread, steeling himself, before letting it all out in a torrent of words, all cascading into a horrific tale.

“I didn’t intend to, but…I killed my best friend. He wanted the bite…I told him he couldn’t have it…he put my head to his wrist…and died.”

Derek had gone absolutely still. Stiles swallowed nervously, knowing the tale was too similar to Derek’s own mistake not to rub the werewolf up the wrong way. Stiles hastily spoke up.

“Great. Well, now we know they want people who did it accidentally. Now, we need to know why.” He announced.

Derek looked up at him, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Stiles could see it clearly on Derek’s face.

“I think Brega could help us with that.”

Molly frowned, crossing her arms.

“Who’s Brega?” She demanded.

*

Vargas and Theo listened to Ianto’s tale without comment. When Ianto had finished, he glanced around, unnerved by this. Sensing his unease, Vargas placed a hand on Ianto’s shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes.

“We shall have to talk to Stiles. I’m intrigued.”

“By talk you mean..?” Theo asked.

Vargas turned, dropping his ghost of a touch from Ianto’s shoulder. He smiled tightly at Theo, as if the answer amused him.

“I mean he would make a valuable asset to our pack, yes?”

Ianto scowled with disapproval, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

“He’s got a mouth on him.” Ianto grumbled.

Theo laughed at that, it was a surprisingly loud, hearty sound in such an enclosed space, with such a cold atmosphere.

“One which Derek’s fond of staring at.” He pointed out.

Vargas managed another tight smile at that.

“I’d noticed. Yes, Derek might be a complication. He won’t willingly give up his mate. By the sounds of the fight, the other volunteers may not appreciate it either.”

He sighed, as if the weight of the whole world rested on his shoulders. He glanced at his two betas with determination in his eyes.

“Luckily, we’re the best pack around.”

*

Brega roared in disproval and anger as Derek and Stiles stepped inside her pack building. Derek and Stiles had refuesed to answer Chow's and MOlly's questions. They had walked stright to Brega's pack building

It was a fairly modern building, the walls painted a slick white, the flooring made of polished wood. The seating looked uncomfortably modern, but Kian and Shawn seemed content with it. At Derek and Stiles’s arrival, however, they weren’t content at all. Instantly, they flitted to their alpha’s side, growling in agreement of her outrage. Stiles seemed nervous and fidgety but Derek merely smirked, holding his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender.

“Relax.” He said, his voice was calm.

“They could have followed you, Derek! Do you want your mate dead?” Brega shouted.

Derek rolled his eyes, giving her a pointed look.

“What I want is answers. And fast.”

Brega’s resolve to be furious wavered, indecision and hesitation were both clearly in her eyes. She glanced towards her betas, seeing their glowing blue eyes, and sighed. They were allies now; they shouldn’t fight with Derek and Stiles. She walked over to one of the chairs and sat down, her body melting into it with relief. Her betas stared at her in confusion. She gestured for Derek and Stiles to sit. Derek inclined his head politely, doing so and Stiles almost tripped into his seat.

“You still hate me, Derek. I know that. I’m sorry for it too. I wish I could…could take back my actions, how ruthlessly devoted to the cause I was. I…I didn’t know the correct facts, much like you.”

Derek raised both eyebrows at her expectantly; his tone was even when he next spoke.

“But you know them now.”

She nodded, biting on her lip, her eyes worrying into the distance.

“Why did they pick the ones who killed by accident?” Stiles asked abruptly.

Kian and Shawn both froze in place, glancing at each other sceptically, like they were sizing up if this was true of the other. Brega ignored them. At Stiles’s words, her head snapped back towards him and Derek. She held his gaze for a while, trying to read what he knew, before nodding slowly in confirmation.

“Yes. They picked those people because Vargas wants to have the best pack. He talks about training killers into alphas, but he exploits their desires, their irrational thoughts and vulnerable emotions.”

She glanced at Derek.

“I’m sorry for that, Derek.” She said quietly.

Stiles glanced at Derek too, but Derek was simply staring intently at her, willing her to carry on explaining. He wouldn’t accept an apology which he didn’t want.

“The scheme wasn’t to make alphas; it was to make poor ones. How many problems have you not known how to face? How many fights have you rushed into, Derek?”

He didn’t answer. She ploughed through, turning the questions into rhetorical ones which left Derek’s mind reeling.

“Who do you think the hunters are going to be more interested in? An old pack who claim to make amazing, sensible alphas? Or packs with wayward alphas? I heard some friends of the argents moved into Beacon Hills.”

Derek nodded, allowing her that. It made sense. He didn’t like talking to this woman but he could see her point. Strangely, these were the first words out of her mouth which he trusted.

“They have a plan. They do terrible things. They want to be the best. They cover up their tracks with schemes and pretence. Don’t fall for it.”

Her expression turns into one of sadness, her eyes staring into the distance with tears in them. Stiles tried his best not to jump in his seat with shock. He wasn’t sure such a person could be that emotional. Derek glared at Stiles, a warning not to say anything. This was a werewolf who thought she knew her place in the pack, who thought she could trust them. Clearly, they hadn’t explained the whole scheme to her.

“They tried to kill me when I found out.” She sagged into the chair, utterly exhausted.

Her eyes move to look at Stiles and Derek.

“I was thinking about what Shawn was saying at breakfast. You need to get out, Derek. Whilst you still can.”

“What? No way! Now that we know what is fake, we can look for what’s real! We’re inside!” Stiles protested, almost jumping out of his seat.

“I agree.” Kian said, nodding at Stiles.

Brega rolled her eyes. Evidently, this had been a long-standing argument between the pack. Shawn was shaking his head at Kian but Derek was already on his feet growling.

“No. I’m not risking it…my mate….Stiles gets out of here. Tonight. I’ll stay and look.”

Stiles practically flailed out of his seat, arms waving about so much that he overbalanced. He stood, not so gracefully, to his feet and glared defiantly at Derek.

“I took a train for you. What don’t you get about that? I’m not leaving you behind.”

Derek growled, crossing the distance between them. Their faces were inches apart, Stiles was panting with anger as they searched each other’s eyes. They were both looking for a refusal, for the other to back down. They didn’t find it.

“Derek, it is difficult being away from your mate. I’m going to side with Stiles on this…but for God’s sake if you’re going to carry through with this be careful.” Brega advised.

“My middle name.” Stiles said, pulling himself up with something close to pride.

Derek stalked out of the room, leaving Stiles to hurry after him. They walked over to the Toyota, Derek opening the door on the driver’s side and sliding in. Stiles stood outside for a moment. Derek pressed a button, the window rolled down on Stiles’s side. Derek leaned over the gear stick.

“Get in.” He said.

“You know it was much sexier when you said it when you had the Camaro.”

Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. He waited as Stiles clambered inside, slamming the car door behind him and hurrying to put his seatbelt on. Derek was already pressing down on the accelerator.

*

Ianto and Theo were waiting for them at the door of the pack building. They were wearing grim expressions. Derek took a deep breath as he parked the Toyota. He looked at Stiles. His eyes held enough warning to know that this was serious, the other werewolves could hear them.

“Thanks for walking with me.” Derek said.

“Anytime. Love you.” Stiles said, laying it on thick.

Derek nodded, knowing this may convince them further. He leaned forwards, his lips brushing Stiles’s. Stiles shivered, falling into the kiss, his hands wrapping into Derek’s hair. When he drew back, his eyes never left Derek’s, searching for an answer. Derek gave the merest of nods.

“I love you too.” Derek said, his expression lost, wondering.

Outside, Theo scoffed at Ianto.

“We told you.”

Ianto looked like he was about to puke. Indeed, his next words confirmed this.

“I think I might be sick. Ugh.”

Theo laughed again, eyeing the car with amusement. Stiles opened the door and tumbled out of it, Derek walked out of his side with more grace, locking the Toyota behind him. He didn’t even look; he just flicked a hand behind him, pressing on the keys. The car headlights blinked behind him. Stiles tried to hide his smile, rushing to keep up with the werewolf’s long strides. They met Ianto and Theo at the door, Derek a confident, smirking alpha and Stiles trying not to look them in the eyes. He felt nervous. Something wasn’t right. They didn’t greet them at the doors usually.

“Problem?” Derek asked, his tone cheerful enough.

“Well…there was. But…after that, um, moment…” Theo shook his head. “No.”

Derek nodding, stepping through the doorway, Ianto moving to the side to let him pass. Stiles hastily followed after him. Before Derek could get far, Ianto placed a hand on his shoulder. Theo closed the door behind them. He locked it too.

Derek turned his head slightly, the merest of acknowledgements, with an eyebrow raised. Ianto smiled politely, removing his hand from Derek’s shoulder. Derek carried on walking, but Ianto kept pace with him. Stiles realised he and Theo were watching them leave. He started walking after them, trying desperately to keep his heart beat even. Theo walked in step with him. Up ahead, Ianto was attempting to initiate Derek into conversation.

“Vargas would like to see you.”

“I was hoping Stiles and I could have some time to call our pack-"

“Oh no. Just, humour us? Stiles needs to wait with the other volunteers for the next training session.” Ianto said, politely enough.

“And what will they be learning?” Derek said, matching the other werewolf’s tone.

Ianto opened his mouth, but hesitated. The hesitation was enough for Derek; he glanced back at Stiles, his eyes wide with alarm. He stepped forward, with the impossible intention of reaching Stiles before Theo.

“STILES!” He shouted.

Stiles swore as Theo made a grab for him. He ducked but the werewolf was strong, and resilient. Theo stalked forwards, but Stiles was already running up the corridor, his arms and legs flailing ridiculously as he tried to gain speed. He could see Ianto and Derek’s retreating backs; hear the scuffling which meant that Derek wasn’t giving up without a fight.

"DEREK!"

As the door to the room slammed closed, Derek’s head turned to find Stiles. He roared in anger, a second later the oncoming Theo kicked Stile’s legs. They buckled and he crashed to the floor, still trying to wriggle his way back onto his feet and away from such a furious foe.

A door further down the corridor opened, Molly and Chow stood in the threshold with confused facial expressions.

“What’s-” Chow began.

His expression changed into one of complete, dark, hungry anger as the realisation struck. It was an expression Stiles would never associate with Chow, if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Molly was hot on Chow’s tail, both of them running at Theo, their roars ripping through the air.

*

Derek roared, snarled and growled as he struggled with Ianto. Eventually, he realised that there was no point. As Stiles had pointed out, sometimes he wasn’t good at fighting. He needed to preserve his strength. Then, he’d get them both out of here. It was a mistake not to take Brega’s advice. They should have left before. Scrap that, he should never have come. He should have turned around when Stiles told him to get his werewolf ass back home, back to Beacon Hills. He scowled furiously as he realised they were in Vargas’s office. Vargas was sat behind the desk, smiling coldly.

“Hello, Derek.”

“LEAVE HIM OUT OF THIS!” Derek shouted, following it up with a roar.

Vargas ignored the shout, and the roar. He stood to his feet, walking calmly out from behind his desk and leaning against it instead.

“Ianto, please take our friend elsewhere. As Stiles is your mate, we will compromise by letting you have a five minute talk each day. We’re not completely cruel.”

“What do you want him for?” Derek growled.

“To ask him to join.”

“You never ask.” Derek snarled.

Vargas laughed, empty and humourless. He shrugged nonchalantly.

“No. I don’t.”

*

Molly and Chow crashed into Theo, giving Stiles enough time to get to his feet. But only that. Theo grappled with them for mere seconds before sending them flying into the nearest wall; Molly hit first, breaking through the plaster with a whine. Chow followed with another.

Stiles braced himself, glancing around for a weapon. The corridor was empty. He tried running again, towards the door he’d seen Derek go through. Theo lurched after him, easily finding his stride and overtaking Stiles regarding speed. However, Stiles was closer to the door. He opened it and flung himself through, leaning his back against it, taking huge, gulping breaths.

“Ah. Stiles. What timing you have.”

Stiles leaned his back into the door, hitting it there and closing his eyes with dread. Seriously? _Seriously?_ Vargas chuckled and that unnerved Stiles enough to look at him.

“Please let Theo through. There’s no point resisting.”

Stiles did so, narrowing his eyes as Theo came into the room. Theo was smiling in amusement, honest amusement which made a change when dealing with Vargas’s pack.

“He puts up quite the chase.” Theo said, smiling about it.

“Where’s Ianto? Where’s Derek?”

“Accidents happen.” Ianto said, stepping into the room from another side door.

Stiles startled, placing a hand on his heart, his expression incredulous.

“Oh my God, why would you do that!”

Ianto ignored him, walking to stand over by Vargas and Theo. Vargas leant against the desk but his betas weren’t so casual. They seemed tense, every muscle in their bodies taunt.

“So, Stiles, we have a proposition for you.”

“Whatever psychotic idea it is: no.”

Vargas met his eyes directly for that comment, trying to read if it was true. At length, he spoke again.

“Join our pack.” It was a command, not an idea.

Stiles’s jaw dropped, he stood gaping for a while before finally having the prescence of mind to close it.

“Join you?” He scoffed. “Are you completely insane? I couldn’t, I have a pack…a family…Derek. And you? Join you? Yeah, no thanks. I’ll pass.”

“I’m insulted, Stiles.” Vargas said, moving silently to walk forward.

He was in front of Stiles within seconds, dangerously close for such a murderous werewolf. Stiles shifted his weight onto the other leg, trying to calm the beating of his heart. Vargas smiled and Stiles knew, in that moment, that even without Derek’s past with this man, he’d still hate him. He’d hate him for this.

“I really am.” Vargas admitted, his tone calm but his eyes searching Stiles’s.

After a few seconds, he seemed to come to a decision, to read something in Stiles’s eyes, something which he thought could be smoothed over.

“We’d let you see him, you know.” His voice is quieter, understanding.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, his voice breaking with relief.

Derek wasn’t dead. Derek was fine. Derek would survive. He kept thinking those thoughts, repeating them in his head like a chant as the silence became unnerving.

“Yes." Vargas agreed, slowly."Despite, Ianto's previous words, I knew you wouldn't want him harmed.”

His voice was careful. He was being cautious. Why? Stiles waited for him to carry on, looking at the alpha demandingly. Vargas sighed.

“Five minutes each day…until you go without it. Until you can live without him, as part of our pack.”

Stiles clung to the one thing which could get him out of this. And the whole thing was a lie.

“You know mates don’t work like that.”

“We’ll see.” Vargas said.

*

Molly and Chow groaned when they came to, stirring underneath the rubble. Molly swore, getting to her feet. She swayed slightly but then Chow was there, his arms on her shoulders, steadying her. She brushed him off but paused in the corridor, turning to look at him.

“Um, thanks.” She said.

Chow nodded. He knew he wouldn’t get a sorry but that was the closest thing to one. He stepped through the rubble until he reached the corridor too, looking up and down it for some sort of sign. They had no idea what to do. Molly looked close to tears; it was the first time she had shown him anything other than anger or confidence.

“We’re going to save, Stiles. We’re going to do it, Molly.”

She nodded, her eyes still watery. She brushed at them, frowning in frustration.

“And Derek.” She added.

Chow nodded with agreement.

“And Derek.” He agreed.

*

Derek had only succeeded in punching the walls of the room. Ianto had led him through to a room with no windows, no furniture and a single door. Ianto had locked it after leaving Derek in the room. Derek had roared, realising this was to hold him prisoner, but the door had closed too quickly for him to reach it.

Now, it opened again. Slowly, as if the person opening it was scared of what they’d find. He glanced up, hands still encased in plaster, still in the punching position. He snarled, his alpha eyes glaring.

“Oh thank God!” Stiles exclaimed.

Derek stopped snarling and glaring, his eyes returned to their normal dark brown colour. Stiles hesitated in the doorway. Theo and Ianto stood behind him. Derek roared at them. They were still betas, they still scarpered easily despite the fact they held all the cards now. They closed the door, locked it. Derek could hear their heartbeats outside, waiting.

“I thought…they would’ve killed you or…” Stiles swallowed. “Worse.”

Derek nodded, walking over to him hastily and looking Stiles directly in the eyes, making sure he knew how important this was.

“This is my fault…I should never have come her. You’ve got to promise me you’ll be careful, Stiles. Whatever they want from you, don’t. Do you understand? Don’t.”

Stiles flung his hands out in exasperation.

“I’m not an idiot, Derek. What do you think I told them? N.O.”

Stiles glanced at him sideways, one eyebrow raised. Derek frowned, non-comprehending. Stiles jerked his head to the side, to the door, more importantly signally a reminder of the people behind it. The werewolves who were listening to every word with gritted teeth and clenched fists. Derek nodded, taking a step forward, closing the gap between them.

The kiss was chaste, both of their lips desperate for a comfort they hadn’t really considered before now. Derek moved again, as if to step away. Stiles put his hand around Derek’s neck, gently, deepening the kiss, poking his tongue at Derek’s lips, waiting for a response. Derek surprised even himself. He moved his lips back against Stiles’s, making a noise of agreement with Stiles’s intentions to deepen this kiss, to make the comfort last a little longer. He pushed Stiles against the wall, lips moving effortlessly together, Stiles’s hands clinging to his hair.

There was a knock on the door. Derek moved a way, this time Stiles let him. He stood against the wall, panting, staring at Derek incredulously. Derek stared straight back, his eyes slightly confused and slightly full of wonder. It was a good look on Derek, one which Stiles wasn’t used to seeing. Derek covered it up immediately with a look of warning. The door handle was moving.

“Whatever they promise…don’t.”

Stiles nodded, still slightly in shock, before following a waiting Theo out of the room. Ianto stayed in the threshold, arms crossed over each other, leaning against the wall.

“I guess I was wrong about you two. I guess it is real.” He smirked.

Derek stared at him, waiting for the insult, waiting for the bait, knowing he’d happily rise to it.

“Sad, really. That may be one of the last times you see him.”

Derek roared but Ianto closed and locked the door in time.


	8. Breaking free.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek, Molly, Chow and Stiles make an attempt at breaking free from the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like it :) I really enjoyed writing this chapter because it was so tense!

Derek didn’t have to wait long for his next visitor.

“Derek? Derek?”

“Molly?” Derek asked.

“Chow! Over here! I found him!” Molly called out.

Derek’s hears their heartbeats, frantic and fast. He hears them attempt to rip the door to shreds. It won’t work. He’s already tried.

“Don’t. It won’t work.”

“I beg to differ.” Molly growled.

“We’re getting you out, Derek.” Chow said, his voice optimistic.

Derek cursed under his breath. It was worse than dealing with Scott’s ideas of ‘save everything’. Derek usually went for the opposite approach, such as ‘kill it’.

“I need you to do something for me. It’s important. Otherwise…this is going to blow out of proportion.”

Something about his tone must have given them pause to listen because they stopped attacking the door with their claws. They stood still on the other side of the door, staring at each other warily. Derek took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. If they’re turning the plan to mere shambles, they might as well do it thoroughly.

“Have you heard of a nearby alpha called Brega?”

*

Stiles, Ianto and Theo walked back to the training room in tense silence.

Theo led the way first, when he opened the door he froze. He turned back to them, staring with wide eyes at Ianto. Ianto stalked past him, towards the wall where a crudely scratched message waited for them. Clearly, it had been etched into the plaster with claws. It read: We’re gone, assholes. Stiles tilted his chin out, eyebrows raised in an attempt to be thoughtful.

“Maybe they just went shopping?”

Ianto roared, his gold eyes gleaming.

*

Molly and Chow walked through the streets at what they hoped was an inconspicuous pace. Chow kept stealing furtive looks over his shoulder, certain that it couldn’t be so easy. After the sixth time of him turning to look, Molly thumped him over the head. He rubbed it, giving her an annoyed glance. She shrugged.

“The best way to not be caught doing something you shouldn’t, is to not look like you are.”

“Thanks for the bruise.” Chow muttered darkly.

She laughed at him and he smiled at that, despite his previous resentment. It was nice to hear someone as guarded as Molly laugh. Upon reflection, it could also be a bit worrying.

They reached Brega’s address soon enough. For a few minutes, they stared at the place sceptically. It was a modern building on the outside, with plain walls, white paint and black window sills. Molly took a deep breath before knocking on the door. A man with glowing blue eyes answered. He was as muscly as Derek, easily, and he had a mop of untidy hair. It looked like he’d been rustling it recently, perhaps with stress. Chow didn’t comment on it, allowing Molly to do the introductions.

“Hi, I’m Molly. This is Chow. I take it you’re not Brega?”

“No. I’m Shawn. Derek mentioned you.” Shawn said slowly, frowning.

“He mentioned you too. Sweetie, isn’t he? Now, excuse me.”

With that, Molly stepped through the door. Hastily, Chow followed her, keeping close to her shadow. He kept his eyes trained downwards, too frightened to look up. He saw her hands at her sides. They were shaking. However, she kept her voice steady as she appraised the corridor.

“I don’t suppose you have an alpha? Called Brega?” Molly practically demanded.

Shawn nodded, eyeing her warily before leading the way down the corridor, towards the door at the end of it. Once inside, the two teenagers had barely anytime to take in the surroundings of uncomfortable chairs, slick white walls and polished wooden flooring. The main focus of this room was the alpha glaring straight at them, moving with lightning speed to cross the room. Her raven-black hair swayed at her waist from the sudden movement. Another beta was lounging against the wall, eyeing their conversation with interest. He had a meaner stare than Shawn did. He must be the beta Derek had told her was called Kian. This alpha in front of her, demanding answers by her glare and seething breath, must be Brega.

“Vargas has Derek locked up and Stiles enrolled in his pack.”

“Poor bastard.” Kian made a 'tut' noise in the back of his throat.

Brega turned around, whipping her head before half her body had landed in a crouch, and roared at him. Her nostrils flared.

“THIS IS SERIOUS!” She shouted.

Kian whined, cringing into the wall in surrender. She held his gaze, him whimpering all the while, and spoke in a clear, flat voice.

“They risked their lives, and now they are at stake. That is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

“They’ve got them separated too.” Chow piped up.

The breath left Brega at this. She tried, and failed, to swallow her fury. It showed in every line on her face. A mournful silence settled in the room at the thought of being separated from your mate.

“Poor Derek.” Shawn whispered.

Brega straightened her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full height, her posture symbolising her resolve. Molly nodded approvingly, chin up was such an overused phrase but sometimes it did wonders. She brought their attention back to the reason she and Chow were there.

“We need your help with this.”

*

Ianto stalked past both Theo and Stiles, running through the corridor in wolf form. He crashed down the door into Vargas’s office. Seconds later, a blazing row erupted from the room. Stiles and Theo raised their eyebrows at each other, both not knowing what to do under the circumstances other than play it cool.

“THEN FIND THEM!” Varga’s yelled. The order of an alpha.

“THIS PLACE HAS A DOZEN FREAKING FLOORS! THEY’RE LONG GONE!”

“YOU KNOW THE PLAN WON’T WORK OTHERWISE! THE HUNTERS WILL LOOK AT OUR WRONGS!”

Beside Stiles, Theo tensed in the anticipation that his pack would shout their secrets from the rooftops. Stiles waited eagerly, knowing Vargas could let it slip at any second.

“SCREW IT ALL! WE CREATED ONE SCHEME, TWO IS OVERCONFIDANT!”

“WHAT ABOUT STILES?” Vargas shouted.

Somewhere in the building, Derek roared his anger and disapproval at that sentence. The roar was so aggressive, so protective, that Stiles and Theo both heard. Stiles laughed uneasily, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck.

“Calm down, big guy.” He muttered, half joking but half serious.

He hoped he had been quiet enough not to attract the mocking of Theo. It appeared he had succeeded. Theo’s expression was alert, his stance poised to run to his pack and intervene. Stiles crossed his fingers, hardly daring to hope. Then, the big bulk of werewolf glanced at Stiles and decided to stay put. Stiles sighed with frustration and exasperation, leaning against the wall with something close to defeat. Not yet. He wouldn’t do that yet, not if Derek was still in this with him.

“WE STILL GOT THE BOY, DIDN’T WE?” Vargas pressed.

Stiles could imagine only too well the veins straining in the man’s neck. In his mind’s eye, he could see the gross spit flying from the alpha’s mouth.

“THEN LEAVE IT AT THAT! FOR GOD’S SAKE, VARGAS, LEAVE IT AT THAT!”

Theo glanced at Stiles again, seriously debating to leave the subject of the conversation so that he could calm his pack down. Stiles grinned lopsidedly.

“Mum and dad fight this often?” Stiles joked.

At this, the whole building fell silent. All that could be heard were panting, seething breaths. Stiles froze, sensing something was wrong. Then, through the sudden quiet, Vargas’s voice spoke in a dangerously calm tone.

“Bring him to me, Theo.”

*

Derek was roaring his throat hoarse, he didn’t even care. Stiles was in danger and it was his entire fault. He wished he hadn’t left Beacon Hills. He wished he hadn’t left his pack. He wished, more than anything, that he could save Stiles now. Instead, he was tearing, ripping, roaring at a door which simply wouldn’t budge. The thing had a ridiculous amount of wood layered onto it.

“Calm your ass, Derek. We’re here.”

Derek snarled at Molly’s comment but nodded, stepping back from the door.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He growled.

“Uh, well, we don’t have the key.” Chow said, his mind fumbling for an explanation.

Derek roared again. On the other side of the door, Molly rolled her eyes, crossed her arms. A few minutes later, Kian came into view. He was holding a key in his right hand. He sprinted towards them, sliding to a halt and shoving the key into the door. The lock clicked, opening. Before Chow and Molly even had a chance to let out their exultant cries, Kian flung an arm out at them, forcing them to move to the side with him.

A fraction of a second later, the door broke down, falling off its hinges. Derek stood on top of it, roaring so loudly that Chow was sure he had a headache. His alpha eyes glowed red.

“Five doors down.” Kian said quickly.

Derek didn’t have time to stay and thank the werewolf. Besides, Kian’s eyes used to scare him. They used to glow a brilliant blue as he and Derek fought to prove themselves. Quite literally.

Derek pounded through the corridor, crashing down the fifth door down.

Five werewolves and a human stared back at him, blinking in surprise.

“Derek!” Stiles called out, evident relief and joy in his voice.

Derek roared. It was such a ridiculous sight. Stiles was being restrained in Ianto’s arms, Vargas in front of him with a threatening glare. Theo was crouched between these three and Brega and Shawn. Brega and Shawn were clearly trying to get past, trying to save Stiles. Yet, amid all the danger, the liars and the sorry ones was Stiles. He was beaming at Derek like it was Christmas. Scrap that, like Derek was the best Christmas present he could be given. Derek paused in the doorway to note all this, with only a little confusion, before charging at Vargas.

“Now, now, Derek. We’re in a particularly tricky experiment.”

Derek glanced at Stiles for confirmation of Vargas’s words. Stiles licked his lips nervously but shook his head. That was all Derek needed, he charged at Vargas. The two alphas wrestled to the floor, snapping and tearing at each other. Stiles watched as Brega ran and leapt at them, half expecting her to yell ‘alpha pile!’

Brega was more focused than that, joining in the fight to get a claim on Vargas’s death. Ianto went for Derek, trying to distract the alpha from his. Derek ignored him, even when the beta ripped his shirt and left claw marks on his side.

Shawn stared at them for a few minutes, completely shocked, before running at Theo and knocking him down. The two werewolves grappled with each other furiously, snarling and rolling on the floor. Desperately, Stiles looked around for something to use as a weapon. He picked up the nearest lamp, sitting innocently on the desk, and chucked it at Theo’s head. The werewolf yelped, then roared, turning his head to face Stiles. Shawn took that brief distraction to lunge for the side of the beta’s face.

The door burst open then, Kian standing in the threshold. He stared, stupefied, at the scene for a few seconds. He shook it off, roaring at his pack for attention. Brega was too involved with the fight, running at Vargas and slamming him into a wall.

“What is it?” Stiles asked.

“Hunters. So many packs in one place...it's bound to attract them.”

Stiles glanced at Derek, wondering if whistling at him like a dog would be entirely inappropriate given the circumstances. Kian gave him a quick sideways glance.

“What pack are you in, by the way?” He asked with his eyes narrowed.

Stiles shook his head, eyebrows raised at the members of different packs who were currently sprawling on the floor in a fight to the death.

“Man, I don’t even _know_.”

Kian followed his gaze, his eyes landing on Vargas. Vargas was in the current predicament of getting one punch after the other from Derek.

“It’s not official unless you want it to be. Do you?” He asked.

Stiles got the feeling that Kian was naturally suspicious. Still, it was a little insulting.

“Hell, _no_. I hate them.”

Kian nodded, pleased with this answer. He smirked at Stiles before roaring again. This time the sound echoed through the air, ripping into everybody’s eardrums with warning. They all looked at him expectantly.

“Hunters.” He explained simply, his tone calm.

The first sound of firing filled the building, the windows on the lower floors shattering. The fight was briefly forgotten. Ianto, Theo and Vargas slinked off through a side door, Derek rushed instantly to Stiles’s side and Brega ran to her pack.

“We left Molly and Chow in the vehicles to get us out of here.”

Stiles’s jaw dropped. A glint of anger mixed with the incredulity in his eyes.

“What? Outside? With the freaking hunters firing right now?”

“Yes, with them.” Brega said clearly, each word full of irritation.

Derek growled at her but she waved a hand at him, in a ‘shut up’ gesture. The werewolves pounded through the corridors, down the stairs and down even more corridors. Stiles struggled to keep up with them. At one point, Derek turned to him and simply lifted him over his shoulder in a fireman lift. Stiles protested but Derek snarled so much that he quickly fell quiet. They ran out the back way. Even so, the hunters were still firing at them relentlessly. Derek crouched, so they wouldn’t be such an easy target. Brega, Kian and Shawn climbed into the car which Chow was waiting in, slamming the doors. The windows were bullet-proof and tinted. The bullets did nothing, hitting the exterior uselessly.

Derek opened the door to the car which Molly was in. Quickly, he put Stiles on his feet. Stiles clambered into the passenger seat, glancing at Molly who was in the back. Derek slide gracefully into the driver seat, slamming the door behind him, a bullet ricocheted off of it.

“Derek…” Stiles’s sentence trailed off.

“What is it?” Derek snapped.

His focus was on driving through before the hunters blocked the exit with their own cars.

“Molly.” Stiles said quietly.

Derek’s expression of tight concentration faded. His face drained of colour. Molly was too similar to Erica to be dead, she couldn’t be dying. It was not happening again.

“It’s not…me…” Molly hiccoughed, tears streaming down her face.

Derek took a steadying breath, even as he accelerated through a red light.

“…Chow…they hit him…with an arrow…not a bullet…”

“He’ll be ok. He’ll heal.” Stiles said.

He had turned in his seat to face her, giving her his best understanding expression, his eyes holding hers. She shook her head, the tears on her face flying from it with the action.

“No. The arrow was laced with wolfsbane.”

Derek swore under his breath, speeding the Toyota to its absolute limit. A grave silence followed. Stiles turned back in his seat, facing the windscreen. For once, he had no idea what to say. Molly sniffed into the silence, trying to stop the tears. Stiles glanced at Derek.

“Is this car…um..?”

“If it wasn’t bullet proof then we’d be dead by now, Stiles.” Derek said through a clenched jaw.

*

An hour or so later, Stiles glanced at Derek. Molly had been exhausted from the trauma, whether she would admit that later or not. She had fallen asleep when they’d driven out of the town.

“Are we going back to Beacon Hills now?” Stiles asked quietly.

Derek glanced at Stiles, before returning his attention back to the road.

“We’re meeting Brega’s pack first. I don’t want this danger near the pack.”

“Derek…” Stiles started in a voice that said he could read every one of Derek’s thoughts.

“Stiles. Not now.”

“What? Because you don’t want to hear it? An alpha can’t hear what his mate says now?”

“You don’t have to…I mean…nobody’s…”

Stiles’s expression of passionate anger fell, replaced by one of realisation.

“Oh yeah. Guess not.” He tried, and failed, to make his voice not sound subdued.

After a minute or so of silence, Stiles piped up again. He still had a point to make. Regardless of whether Derek’s feelings had been real back in that hellhole of a building, he was going to listen to every word.

“Why are you running away, Derek?” His voice was harsh, demanding, stubborn and angry all at once.

Derek sighed, making a left turn. He didn’t look at stiles. He couldn’t. He couldn’t explain that he was torn between his love for a pack, his family, and putting them all in danger. If he really cared for them all then surely he wouldn’t do that?

Derek sighed, pulling them to a stop at a red light. At least, they were far enough away from the danger for him to not speed past it.

“This is what I was born into, Stiles. This life. The running. The fighting. The big, bad wolves.”

Stiles leaned over, one hand holding Derek’s jaw, forcing the werewolf to look at him. Had he been a werewolf, Stiles’s eyes would have flared with colour. As it was, they flared with injustice, with fury, with the need to convey something important to Derek.

“I will never let them hurt you, do you understand that? You are pack, Derek. You are important too and don’t you _ever_ let those freaking sad excuses for alphas keep you from your pack, from us, _from me_. Ever.”

His words were so full of passion that Derek’s eyes widened, clouding with confusion. His lips parted slightly, staring at Stiles’s intense glare. A few cars beeped in annoyance behind them. He should really keep driving but he couldn’t tear his eyes from Stiles’s. The fact that any of that could be true…yet, Stiles had spoken with furious passion. His heartbeat hadn’t quickened, it had stayed the steady.

“Great. I crash out and you guys declare your love. Ugh.” Molly’s voice grumbled behind them.


	9. Glowing Blue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Chow both need help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :) so this chapter isn't as long as the last but I felt like it should end at that point, I might post another one later on tonight to make up for it :)

Derek pulled the car into a motel just outside of Beacon Hills. Brega’s car was already parked here. Derek, Stiles and Molly climbed out of the Toyota, walking up the steps to the motel in silence. Derek described Brega, her pack, and Chow, to the receptionist. The woman smiled, nodding at the inquiry. Derek nodded back, turning to face Stiles and Molly. His smooth smile fell of his face, his lips drawing together in two tense lines.

“Room fourteen. Let’s go.”

They nodded, walking through a door to the side and then down a corridor. Stiles was fed up of corridors, he remembered Vargas’s building with a sick feeling in his stomach. He had been constantly confused in that labyrinth. He glanced at Derek, realising that he really did feel sick.

“Derek…I don’t feel so well.”

Derek frowned at him.

“What do you mean?”

Before Stiles could reply, Molly let out a cry of triumph. She was a little further ahead in the corridor, staring at the right door number. She knocked on it and it opened at once. Shawn stood in the doorway, looking a little wary, and let them through. Derek closed the door behind them. Brega was stood anxiously at the foot of Chow’s bed; Kian was crouched down next to him.

“Did you get the arrow?” Kian asked.

Chow shook his head, his face scrunched up with pain, his eyes glowing blue.

“Focus, Chow.” Kian instructed, his voice held a note of warning.

Chow nodded, biting down on his lip. His blue eyes faded, returning to their normal dark brown colour. Molly hovered anxiously by his side.

“Someone needs to get it. I’ll go.” Molly announced.

Shawn shook his head, smiling a little at her determination and bravado. He was leaning against the door, his arms crossed and his eyes thoughtful.

“No. If Vargas sees you two…he wants this scheme to work. He wants his mistakes to be covered.”

Stiles sighed, sitting down in the nearest chair. Derek didn’t move, his eyes locked on the dying werewolf boy. He knew the pain of having wolfs bane in your system, the choking feeling as it crept towards your heart, the knowledge that it would kill you if you didn’t find a cure in time.

“He’s got forty eight hours.” Derek said, glancing at Brega.

She nodded, understanding that he wanted her to move her pack, to find the arrow and to do it quickly. Her eyes moved to Kian, who straightened up at her gaze.

“Go. Find it. Stay out of sight of Vargas’s pack and the hunters.”

Kian nodded hastily, before striding out of the door at a quick pace. Brega glanced at Derek and Stiles, opening her mouth to instruct them. The words froze in her throat.

Stiles collapsed in the chair, his head lolling down onto his chest.

“What the-” Derek muttered, his wide eyes staring at Stiles.

“Derek! Get him on the other bed! Now!” Brega growled.

Derek didn’t hesitate. He scooped Stiles into his arms, the teenagers head resting on his left arm, his legs draped over the right one. Gently, he placed Stiles on the bed and stood back, staring in horror. The sound of Stiles’s heartbeat was faint.  
Brega ignored Derek, pushing past him and leaning over Stiles. Her black hair fell over her face as she lifted Stiles’s hand, turning his forearm. The inside of Stiles forearm, from his wrist to his elbow, was pale, fragile skin. Today, it was laced with energy, a pulse, which was glowing blue.

“What. Is. That.” Derek growled.

Brega swore under her breath, looking at Derek with a grave expression.

“Vargas may have been telling the truth about one thing. The tricky experiment they were in the middle of.”

*

Kian had always been a fast werewolf, he depended upon that now.

He arrived back at the edge of Vargas’s territory in no time, staring at the familiar building with loathing. He was stood in the middle of the woods, which he had cut through. The trees around him were old, had seen every secret and told no lies. Their leaves rustled, like whispers of a warning carried in the air. Kian frowned, his eyes narrowing in on an arrow. It was on the edge of the white parking lines where Brega’s car had been. It was covered in blood. Kian was about to dodge forward and retrieve it, when he heard angry voices behind him. Hastily, he hid behind some foliage, waiting for the owners of the voices to appear.

Vargas, Theo and Ianto prowled the edge of the woods, all of them emitting fury and hostility. Vargas’s eyes were glowing red with anger.

“They can’t have gone far. We follow the scents.”

“The ones which are masked by hunter scents?” Ianto snapped his question out.

“What if the hunters come back?” Theo asked.

“Then we won’t be found here, waiting for them to.” Vargas growled.

The moved on, continuing their walk of the woods, heading the direction Kian had come from. He cursed under his breath, darting out to grab the arrow. He clenched it in his hand, his thoughts on which route to take back to the motel. He had to arrive before them. He had to warn the others.

*

Molly’s clasped her hand in Chow’s, biting down on her lip with worry. Chow stirred a little, turning his head to see Brega and Derek crowded around Stiles. Chow moved, rolling to the edge of bed, with the intention of standing up. Instead, he rolled and promptly through up black sick.

“Oh, god, that’s horrible.” Molly said, scrunching up her nose.

Derek glanced behind, frowning. What was taking Kian so long? The kid wasn’t holding up well. Derek looked back at Brega.

“I can’t call Deaton.”

“Derek, we drove your car back here to rescue you. I’m sure we can get your phone back from where you left it.”

“I left it in Beacon Hills, so no.” Derek said, his words harsh.

Brega nodded at that, before searching Stiles’s pockets. She held up a phone triumphantly, scrolling for Deaton’s number. She called him.

“Hello, Deaton. It’s Brega and Derek.”

“What-”

“Get to the motel just out of town. Now. Stiles is dying.”

Derek growled at that. Brega hung up the call before Deaton could respond, not allowing him to disagree. Shawn watched Stiles from over Derek’s shoulder, a frown in place.

“What did they do?”

Brega sighed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, avoiding their eyes.

“You may remember that you were told to drink something."

Derek and Shawn both nodded. Derek remembered telling Stiles that, and Stiles thinking he meant alchol. He tried not to smile at the thought. Now was not the time. Brega continued speaking, unaware of his thoughts.

"It increased your need to kill, your sharpness, your senses. I take it Stiles was made to drink the same thing, to see what happened. Usually, it makes werewolf eyes glow bluer. You want to kill more, it makes sense. This…this doesn’t. Vargas is a fool for his greed.”

She sighed again, heavily, before looking into Derek’s green eyes, noting the brown centre ring in them. Honest eyes, ones not glowing but asking.

“I don’t know if he’ll live, Derek.”

Derek roared in disapproval at this. Stiles stirred in response, causing everybody in the room to go still. His eyes blinked. They were their usual brown.

“You think you can keep it down, considering I’m on my deathbed?” He muttered.

Chow turned his head to look at Stiles.

“I was about to say the same to you.” He mumbled.

Stiles laughed weakly, turning to look at Derek with a quizzical expression. Before he could ask, Kian answered his question by storming into the room with an arrow clutched in his hand. Hastily, he burnt the arrow head with a lighter, watching it spark and hearing it crackling. He scooped up the ashes, handing them to Molly.

“Stay still.” She whispered to Chow.

She pressed it to the wound in his side. He screamed, his body arching, his eyes glowing blue with the strain. After a few moments, he fell back against the bed, exhausted. He glanced at Molly.

“Let’s not do that again.”

She shook her head in agreement; trying to her best to smile but the evident worry in her eyes betrayed her. Chow sighed, a sound close to contentment, lacing his fingers through hers.

Kian stepped towards Brega, his words urgent in her ear.

“They’re coming here.”

“I know.” She said, meeting his gaze square on.

Kian nodded, he understood. They wouldn’t be leaving with Chow and Stiles in such condition. They would wait and they would fight when the time came.

*

As Deaton hung up the phone call, he glanced at Scott. The teenager was happily moving a large bag of cat food into the storage cupboard. Scott straightened up. His intense gaze of understanding told Deaton that he had heard every word. When he next spoke, his true alpha showed, his eyes glowing red protectively.

“Let’s go.”


	10. Round two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round two of the fighting commences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will still be more chapters after this. The story isn't over quite yet.

Deaton and Scott raced to reach the motel, arriving shortly after the call. Stiles was barely remaining conscious. Derek was sat cross-legged on the bed, Stiles’s head cradled in his lap. He was brushing his fingers through Stiles’s hair, keeping it from his the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Stiles was mumbling something incoherent.

“What’s he saying?” Chow asked, finally sitting up.

Derek didn’t answer, simply stared at Stiles with worry. At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Brega stood to answer it, Kian and Shawn flanking her just encase. She opened it and they all visibly relaxed, the tension leaving their shoulders.

Deaton walked through, his eyes instantly on his patient, and what looked suspiciously like a doctor’s bag in hand. Behind him, an angry Scott stormed in. Kian closed the door behind them. As Deaton bent over Stiles, his hands carefully traced the energy, which was glowing blue on the inside of the teenager’s arms. Scott addressed Derek, although he stared at Stiles with horror all the while. He flung a hand out for empathises.

“What the hell, Derek? You just freaking leave town for ages and phone to say you’ve got my best friend on his deathbed?”

Brega, Kian, Shawn, Molly and Chow all hissed, snarled and growled at this accusation. Brega drew herself up to her full height, her red eyes glaring at Scott’s.

“It’s his _mate!_ Don’t make him feel even worse!”

Scott laughed, looking at Derek with incredulity.

“Are you serious? You told them you were _mates?”_

Deaton glanced up at Derek, his stern expression in place. Derek was more wary about that curiosity behind Deaton’s eyes. Derek ignored it. Molly was straightening up from inspecting Chow’s wound, her face held livid rage.

“Ugh, screw you, Derek.”

Chow was shaking his head in disappointment.

“We were making ship names for you.”

Derek frowned, momentarily distracted.

“What’s a ship na-?”

“Ours is sterek.” Stiles mumbled quietly.

The whole room went silent, everybody staring at him. Stiles blinked slowly, his eyes were heavily lidded. Hurriedly, Deaton offered Stiles a drink out of his bag. Stiles glanced at it sceptically before swallowing, Derek helping him to sit up to drink it.

“We will talk over your lack of care of humans in your pack later, Derek.” Brega said in a flat tone, her eyes watching Stiles.

Deaton was carefully pouring some sort of powder over Stiles’s affected skin. At this announcement, Derek stood to his feet, roaring at her. Scott helped lower Stiles back onto the bed as Derek abruptly left.

“Who gave me that.” He growled. And then, louder. “WHO GAVE ME THAT?”

Brega roared in anger to rival his. She barred her teeth and Derek welcomed the distraction from Stiles’s deathbed. Stiles blinked, his vision was bleary. He could hear them well enough; hear the roaring in his ears. Was that his mind or them? He knew what to do. Every instinct inside of him was saying to go with the need to intervene. A shock wave rippled through the air, pushing the two pouncing wolves backwards and into the nearest furniture.

They both stumbled to get their balance, glancing at Stiles with shock. Everybody was staring at him with wide eyes. He looked up at Deaton’s kind face, and Scott’s concerned puppy eyes.

“Am I going to live, Doc?” He said, half smiling.

“Just rest, Stiles.” Deaton said quietly.

*

It didn’t take much, or long, to find the motel. Vargas stood, silhouetted in the dying day’s light, as night crept in. Ianto stood on his left, Theo on his right.

“Let’s say hi.” Vargas suggested, his voice dangerously soft.

His two betas growled in agreement, both stalking forward first at the order, he followed them in.

*

“How long is this going to take? They’ll be here soon.” Kian grumbled.

Scott raised an eyebrow at Derek.

“This is who you’ve been hanging out with during the past few days?”

Derek shrugged.

“It’s not like you missed me.”

For a long minute, Scott stared at him intensely. He dropped his gaze, staring at the floor.

“Derek…I did. I’m not going to jump to anything like the whole ‘we’re brothers now’ thing again. But we did miss you. All of us. Cora punched the hell out of that punching bag every morning. Isaac moped around in your loft. Peter…Peter followed the scent to the train station and almost ripped the throat of the woman who gave you a ticket. But don’t worry! We, uh, we stopped him.”

“Jesus.” Stiles said, sitting up. “ I never knew Derek was so popular. And nobody mentioned me? Pff.” Stiles let out his breath in a grin, his eyes teasing Derek.

Derek rolled his own. Immediately, Scott perked up, pointing at himself as he and Deaton stood to their feet again.

“I watched the entire season one of Star Wars.”

Stiles flung his arms up in a mocking gesture.

“Finally.” He laughed.

Scott grinned, moving in for a bro hug. They clapped each other’s backs, both of them grinning. The door to the room broke down.

“How sweet. Now, Chow, Molly and Stiles over here please.”

It was Vargas’s silk voice, ruining the moment for them. They pulled back, looking at him with strong distaste. Theo and Ianto walked into view, both inspecting the new blood on their claws. The receptionist. Stiles’s stomach swirled with unease, his heart beat faster with anger. Scott roared at Vargas, for everything he had put Stiles and Derek through, for all the pain he had seen his best friend endure and all the pain which Derek lived with every day. His eyes glared red with the true alpha inside him. It was furious.

“Now…are you ready for round two?” Vargas asked, his quiet voice purring with rage.

His eyes glinted with malice and then he leapt, aiming for Derek’s throat. Stiles let loose another shockwave through the air. It made Vargas rock backwards, stumbling away from Derek. Scott ran for Vargas, he was not getting away from this fight with a small bruise. Stiles swayed on the spot, his vision black around the edges.

“Stiles, don’t tire yourself.” Deaton said, his voice calm.

Stiles nodded, allowing Deaton to lead him, Molly and Chow through the chaotic mess of squabbling werewolves. Theo blocked their path but Molly lunged for his chest, knocking him backwards into the wall. She stepped back as he lay on the floor but he stirred, his hand reaching for her ankle. Shawn crashed into Theo, sending clumps of plaster everywhere. Molly ran back over to them.

Derek watched, out of the corner of his eye, as Deaton lead them to safety. Stiles turned back, a look of hopelessness on his face. He knew it was useless. He couldn’t help his friends. Not if he was a target. It would only complicate things.  
Derek lunged for Vargas’s throat, even as Brega leapt forward to do the same. Scott and Kian were now both fighting Ianto; it was fair to say that Ianto was losing. Derek snarled at Brega as she took a swipe at Vargas. Vargas stumbled back again, roaring. Derek took the opportunity to glance backwards at Brega.

“It was my childhood he ruined.” Derek growled.

She looked at him, her eyes giving him a look so close to begging that Derek stopped growling. Her next words were spoken with an overwhelming note of sadness and deep regret in her voice.

“It was my morality he ruined.”

Her eyes turned red, giving him a fraction of a second to mull over that, before she leapt for Vargas. Her claws swiped through the air. A second later, a horrible gurgling noise filled the room. Ianto and Theo howled, straining against their fighters, straining to reach their deceased alpha. Derek blinked. All those years of doubts and darkness did they end just like that?

Scott paused in combat against the betas, turning to look at Derek’s look of complete shell-shock. It was a vulnerability Scott had only seen when Derek’s pack, and everybody else in Beacon Hills, had been in danger. That time, the word ‘abomination’ had been uttered.

There were two ugly snarls, ripping sounds and then Kian and Shawn stood back, admiring their handy work.

Derek felt sick.


	11. Home sweet home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles return to Beacon Hills, it's just as they left it. A beacon for trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry I couldn't write a new chapter yesterday but it was fireworks night so I didn't have any time. Anyways, hope you enjoy it! :)

Brega stood, turning to face them.

“Good work, boys.” She praised them, smiling.

Scott stared in horror. Blood was dripping off Kian’s and Shawn’s teeth, a small line of it ran down Kian’s chin. Derek was always easily put on edge, could recognise violence in the blink of an eye and, admittedly, could give it out equally as fast.

“Scott.” He whispered quietly. “Run.”

Scott frowned, stepping closer to the other alpha, confusion clouding his eyes. It all became clear moments later, Brega and her betas turning towards them with snarls in their chests. These people would always be killers, just as Derek knew he would always kill them. If it came down to that.

“Derek, no-”

An arrow sailed through the glass window, barely missing Kian’s shoulder. Kian roared in protest, his eyes glowing blue. Shawn and Brega were roaring too, waiting for the incoming onslaught from the hunters. Derek glanced at Scott. Whatever was going on here, they were not about to get in the middle of it. The hunters were too persistent in tracking them for everything to be okay. Derek thought back to what Brega had explained, about Vargas distracting people from his wrongs. Now that Vargas was dead, perhaps the consequences lay with them.

Scott grabbed Derek’s shoulder, willing the older man to move. They both transformed quickly enough, running through the corridors and out the back way. Behind them, they heard the howls of Brega’s pack.  
They only stopped running when they were a mile out of Beacon Hills. They stood on the edge of the reserve, the trees around them caging them in on all sides.

“What was that about?” Scott asked, his eyes wide.

Slowly, Derek shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Scott nodded, although he didn’t look particularly pleased with the answer. He turned back to face their new route, taking a few steps forward. He realised Derek wasn’t following. He glanced behind him.

“What?”

Derek shook his head, glancing at the familiar ‘Beacon Hills Preserve’ sign. He was back on home soil. But was he worthy of being there? How many people were endangered if he was? Scott was still staring at him expectantly. Something about his look told Derek that backing out was not an option. Not anymore.

“Nothing.”

*

Derek didn’t return to his flat straight away. He had some things to sort out first.

Stiles had promised Deaton he would be back soon, leaving Molly and Chow in the man’s capable and, more importantly, trusted hands. He had headed straight for Derek’s loft. He had opened the door to find that Peter was the only Hale in the house. Peter was sat on the staircase. At Stiles’s arrival the man stood to his feet, his whole body tense.

“Where’s Derek?”

Stiles shrugged.

“I guess I beat him here. He’s fine, by the way.”

Peter nodded, sitting back down onto the stairs with a quiet demeanour. Stiles sighed and sat down. He’d have to wait then. He didn’t have to wait too long, although it wasn’t Derek who walked through the door a few minutes later. Scott entered, spotting Stiles and walking over.

Scott sat down next to Stiles, his jaw clenched, emitting a wave of fury. Stiles rarely saw this in Scott. Usually, it was on a full moon, or when Scott’s dad was in the same room, possibly when Jackson or Peter were. It wasn’t like this. It wasn’t with them. They were like brothers.

“Come on, Scott. What is it?”

Stiles was fairly certain what ‘it’ was, although the words burst from his mouth anyways. He could never stand impregnated silences for long. Scott’s claws dug into the arm of the settee, his jaw jutting out a little.

“You left to bring him back, I get that. But this is Derek Hale, Stiles. Derek Hale. The same guy who you told me not to trust!”

“He’s broken, Scott. It’s difficult to trust broken people!”

Stiles paused, catching his breath. They were both angry, at themselves and the situation but at each other rarely helped. When he next spoke, it was quieter, more restrained.

“They don’t let you close enough to.”

“Which explains an awful lot about you, Stiles, doesn’t it? With your sarcastic defences.”

Stiles and Scott both turned to glare at Peter, who had been sitting on the steps in quiet contemplation for the majority of the argument. Scott stood to his feet, his eyes glaring red. Stiles bit down on his lip to prevent the torrent of sarcastic, angry responses waiting to fly out of his mouth. They would only serve Peter’s case in point.

Peter tilted his head at Stiles, evaluating him.

“Tragically poetic. Two broken pieces making a whole, wouldn’t you say, Stiles?”

“Shut up.” Scott growled.

*

Derek was staring at the Vet Clinic, his expression impassive. He walked towards the door. The only reasonable explanation for doing so was a magical force pulling him to that location. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.  
Deaton looked up, from where he was talking in a low, calm voice to Molly and Chow. The two teenage werewolves were nodding in understanding.

“Derek.” Deaton said, looking up at the alpha.

Derek nodded, his eyes flicking past Deaton and towards the two kids who had made it all possible, who had gone to the big, bad pack next door and asked for help, who had freed Derek, who had saved them. He nodded at them before returning his gaze back to Deaton.

“I need to talk to you.”

Deaton straightened up, nodding in agreement. He smiled faintly at Molly and Chow, before following Derek back into the corridor.

“What is it?” The vet asked.

Derek’s eyes slid back to the door they had just closed, the one leading to Molly and Chow.

“Where will they go after?”

“Back to their packs. Although, I’m told they joined the scheme due to a lack of parents.”

“Their packs will be angry.”

Deaton tilted his head to the side, a gesture which admitted that Derek had a valid point. The door opened slightly, Molly poking her head out into the corridor. Her blonde hair, so like Erica’s had been, was flat on her head, raindrops caught in the strands. It had been drizzling earlier, but Derek hadn’t noticed. He had been too busy with Scott, running from the chaos of his old life. Usually, Molly had an abruptness and bluntness which spoke miles about her confidence. Now, she peered at him with a timid look, wavering on the side of cautious.

“Derek…me and Chow were wondering, if we could join your pack?”

At Derek’s look of surprise, her guard was back up.

“Obviously, we have packs already. They’re probably out of their heads worrying about us-”

“Molly.”

Molly paused, her brisk manner gone, the pretence falling from her face. She looked at him seriously, her gaze meeting his directly.

“You saved our lives back there. Of course.”

*

Stiles, Scott and Peter were positively fuming with impatience. Scott was drumming his fingers against the armchair of the settee, Stiles was jiggling his leg and Peter kept staring at the door with a look like he wanted to murder the next person who walked through it.

That person wasn’t Derek. It was Allison.

She strode through the room. They stood up, as if to attention, all of them were instantly alert. She was dressed all in black, most of it leather. Her hunter clothes. In her hand was a lethal compound bow. Her face was deathly pale. Her hands were shaking.

“What is it?” Scott asked.

He was at her side in a heartbeat. He leaned his forehead against hers, looking into her troubled eyes. He held her free hand, watching their fingers interlace.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice quiet, concerned.

She bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. She couldn’t bare to tell him. Peter and Stiles waited, their stances frozen, their breath baited.

“We’ve got trouble, Scott.” Her voice sounded frantic with worry.

“We always have trouble.” He said, smiling at her lovingly.

She shook her head adamantly.

“This is hunter trouble.”

*

Derek was making his way back from the vet clinic, having told Molly and Chow that he’d come back later. He needed to prepare the pack first, for new members and for adjusting to his return. Altogether, he was surprised if Peter hadn’t already tried to overtake his power, with his absence.

Derek heard a snapping of a twig behind him. His senses were instantly alert.

*

“Derek’s pack is in trouble. They-”

“Who’s they?” Peter asked sharply.

Allison glanced at him, giving him a look which suggested she had forgotten he was there. She took a deep, shaky breath.

“Hunters. Other hunters.”

*

An arrow shot through the air. Derek dodged it, running for the woods. The fact it was an arrow again struck Derek as odd. He only knew Allison who favoured those weapons. She wouldn’t create conflict, not now, when the rift between the hunters and werewolves in Beacon Hills was starting to settle down.

“I’ve got him. Target spotted.”

Derek ran on, his alpha eyes glowing.

*

“They’re tactics are frowned upon even by hunters. If they ever take any of your prisoner…it’s not a good thing.”

She looked up at Scott, her eyes begging him to listen carefully to her words, to take heed of them.

*

Derek’s heart was pumping, his voice was roaring, his lungs were burning. This was quite a chase, even for him. He paused, his ears pricking up at the sound of a walkie-talkie behind him.

“Take him prisoner. That is an order.”

“Yes, Sir.”

*

Allison glanced past Scott, looking at Peter and Stiles.

“We have to warn Derek and Cora. These people are dangerous.”

“I think we’ve faced worse.” Peter growled.

Allison shook her head at him, defiant on that point.

“No. These people are devious. They can trap you like a fly in a spider’s web.”

She raised her chin slightly, glaring at Peter for not understanding the urgency of her words, the truth behind them.

“And you wouldn’t even notice until it was too late.”

*

Derek’s feet pounded the forest floor, his eyes darting everywhere for hunters, for the enemy. He didn’t see the trap. He walked straight into it. He was being pursued by the hunter behind him, but he had forgotten that there could be one ahead. Specifically, one with three cars hedging him in and a gun in one hand. Derek could smell the chemical in the gun. It wasn’t wolfs bane. It would simply knock him unconscious. Even that wasn’t desirable.

“Your chase is up, Hale.” The man laughed cruelly.

*

“My dad said they moved in next door because of Derek. They simply said that his past was why they had come. To check up on things. But…they’re after him.”

Stiles nodded in agreement, taking a deep, shaky breath. He knew that despite everything they had gone through for Derek to come to terms with his past, it was still an issue. Maybe more than it ever had been before.

“His past still haunts him.”

*

From a distance, hidden behind trees and shrubbery, three werewolves watched the scene. Something shot out of the man’s gun, hitting Derek in the side of the neck. Derek crumpled to the ground. Kian raised his eyebrows at Shawn and Brega.

“So…what are we going to do?”


	12. Through the chaos.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Stiles and Derek survive through the chaos?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :) okay, so just a small warning for the next couple of chapters and a little bit of this one. Personally, I like Stiles as human, I like the idea that a human could be that 'spark'. I'm just not comfortable of taking Stiles to the place of being 'magic' because that screams supernatural to me. So, Stiles will use his abilities but it's more 'spark stiles' than 'magical stiles'...But a big spark nonetheless;)

Derek blinked, his vision coming back to focus. For a few minutes, his eyesight was bleary. When his surroundings began to take on clearer, sharper shapes, he realised that he wasn’t alone. Two men were talking in low voices, crowded around a table. They hadn’t noticed he was awake again. Derek glanced around, taking advantage of that. He was slumped against the wall which the manacles around his wrists were chained to. A dull pain ebbed at his wrists, he smelt wolfs bane but supressed a whine. He let his head drop onto his chest, hoping they would think he was still asleep. He had a bigger pack to take care of now. He couldn’t roar at them for attention.

The door opened and his eardrums found the almost soundless noise easily. He didn’t move. He waited. The sound of high-heels clicking on the floor echoed throughout the space. Even the other hunters had gone silent. Next to him, a person crouched down. He felt their cold fingers lifting his chin towards their face. He glared at her, barely restraining himself from roaring. He settled for a growl. He knew this woman, and these men. The Bennett family. These were brothers of this woman. No doubt, the rest of the family had been killed off. It was a common instance in hunter families who threw themselves into their work. He knew that they would be interested in the old werewolf pack she had always been slightly suspicious of. 

“Why haven’t they done anything yet?” Derek asked, his eyes on her brothers.

She smiled at him, her lips stretching into a thin, red line.

“Ever heard the phrase ‘our sons are trained to be soldiers; our daughters, to be leaders’”? 

*

Chris Argent was in the middle of an incredibly furious debate. 

“They are our rivals, dad! We have to go after them!”

Chris folded his arms, giving her a pointed look, a look which suggested that they had gone through this conversation countless times before.

“We are not having this discussion.”

“I know you hate them as much as I do!”

“Allison-”

Allison shook her head, her eyes troubled. 

“No, dad. We have to help. You know Alisha, Robert and Alex will just tear them apart.”

Chris sighed. Sometimes, he wished he could go back to the days when he carried a sleeping angel in his arms and tucked her in at night.

*

As soon as Allison had left, Peter went to find Cora. Scott and Stiles glanced at each other, Scott staring at Stiles with an unimpressed look.

“Hey! This is so not my fault!”

“If you didn’t go after the freaking-”

“They would’ve got to him on their own, Scott.”

Scott nodded but his eyes were far away. He returned them to Stiles, looking at his best friend with a gaze which said he was ready. They would brace themselves. Whatever happened would happen, and they would be at each other’s side for support through it all. 

“Let’s go then.”

“We need to warn Molly and Chow first.” Stiles said.

Scott nodded. They walked out of Derek’s flat with apprehensive expressions and wariness burrowing a home for itself, deep down in their hearts.

*

Derek snarled as she leaned in close, her breath whispering against his ear.

“I heard there was a mate?”

Derek fumed in silence, his lips stubbornly drawn together. She smiled again, a sly gesture meant to freeze her enemy’s blood. She tilted her head. 

“Rob said he was a human.”

She glanced over her shoulder, at her two brothers.

“Isn’t that right, Rob?”

Robert Bennett glanced up from his deep, low conversation with his younger brother. Robert was the eldest, but not the most dangerous. That position was delegated to his younger sister, Alisha. 

“Yeah. That’s right. Clumsy looking. Pale skin. Brown hair. We saw them as we were taking Vargas’s building.”

Alisha nodded, already drawing her conclusions. Sharply, she turned to look at Derek. She smiled again, walking forward with slow, lazy, almost content steps. It was like she was refraining from skipping, swinging one foot in front of the other with laziness in her manner.

“Well, there’s only one person I know like that in this town. We’ve made our observations, Derek. We’re not stupid. We know how to control this.”

She paused, looking at him with consideration.

“So with that in mind, I think it would be best if you told us what’s happening with those two rogue werewolf teenagers.” 

She used her best condescending voice. Derek would be confident with saying it worked, if she ever asked. She seemed to know already. He was straining against the chain, roaring at her in defiance. Alisha rolled her eyes, glancing at Alex.

“Go find them.”

At that moment, the door opened. Brega stood in the doorway, Kian and Shawn stood behind her. Kian was holding Molly, restraining her from getting away. She was snarling at him, her blue eyes glowing. Shawn held Chow back, but he looked every bit as uncomfortable as the teenager with the situation. Brega sighed, like she was regretting the words which she hadn’t said yet. The ones which were sure to come, which had to come if she was ever going to hide her mistakes. Derek and his pack had to go.

“I think I can help you there. For a price.” 

*

Stiles stumbled with haste as he stepped down from the jeep. He raced inside to the vet clinic, but Scott had stopped with horror as soon as he’d stepped out of the jeep. Scott sniffed the air, remembering those scents and cursing them. 

Oblivious, Stiles skidded round a corridor, finding Deaton unconscious in the operation room. Stiles dashed over to the man, his actions frantic as he shook him. Deaton mumbled incoherently before blinking around at his surroundings. Upon seeing Stiles, he let the teenager pull him to his feet.

Instantly, Scott was there, by Deaton’s side. He placed a gentle hand on the man’s back, guiding him over to the nearest chair. 

“Who did this?” Scott growled.

Deaton looked up at him.

“Brega’s pack.” He sighed.

At Scott’s and Stiles’s outraged expressions, he smiled with patience, despite the sadness in his eyes.

“Those people with corrupt morality are sometimes the ones who wish they weren’t. Yet, they will continue doing terrible acts to hide it. It’s a ruthless circle.”

“We need to go.” Scott said, heading towards the door.

Stiles nodded absentmindedly, still mulling over Deaton’s words. As he reached the door, Deaton called out to him.

“Stiles…you might need this.”

Stiles glanced down at the jar Deaton was offering him. He nodded quickly, in agreement, before following Scott out to the  
Jeep.

*

Molly was shaking, her hair still matted from the previous rain and something else. Most likely a fight, but one which hadn’t lasted long by the looks of things. The side of her cheek was bruised but that was already beginning to heal. She looked at Derek as Kian led her into the room, still keeping a tight hold on her arm. It was a look of faith, Derek felt drowned in desperation by it. Which, considering, was slightly ironic. Shawn led Chow into the room as well, but the shyer teenager wasn’t looking anybody in the eyes. Brega walked forward, her steps slow and purposeful. She stopped a few metres away from Alisha. 

“Immunity. You leave my pack alone.”

Robert stepped forward, his expression furious.

“You’re the ones who have done the most damage.” He accused. 

Behind him, Alex was glaring his agreement. Brega sighed, this time purely to communicate how tasking this was. 

“Which is why you give us immunity. Come on now. Can we really have two rogue werewolves, teenagers with no idea what they’re getting into, running around this place?”

“They aren’t rogue. They aren’t omegas.” Derek snarled, giving Brega a dark look.

Alisha raised her eyebrows. Brega pursed her lips, waiting for Derek to explain himself. Derek shifted, his chains clinking with the movement. He panted as he strained against the manacles. They were burning his skin, a faint scent of wolfs bane emitting from them.

“They are my pack now.”

*

The Jeep pulled over next to Chris’s SUV, parked in a small lane opposite a large house. This house was near to the Argent’s house, a few blocks over in fact. Chris and Allison were waiting outside their car, holding their weapons in their arms. Chris favoured a gun, whereas Allison always picked a bow. Stiles had always thought that she would make good friends with the Green Arrow, had any of that comic world been real. 

Scott walked over to her, his muscles tense. She smiled at him, an absentminded action.

“Ready?” She asked.

Scott nodded. 

“Good.” Chris said, loading his gun.

Scott’s eyes widened in alarm but Chris glanced past him, at Stiles. The look he gave the teenager was extremely sceptical.

“Do you need a weapon?”

Stiles held up the little jar of dark powder, shaking it slightly, a grin on his face.

“Already got one.” He said.

Chris nodded, shaking his head slightly, before leading the way.

*

The powder crept in from under the door, sweeping the floor like a gust of wind had led it there. The bickering between Alisha and Brega, over what was a fair deal, stopped. Every werewolf in the room tensed. Kian and Shawn stepped back, abandoning their hostages and moving away from the powder. However, it purposely swept around them, surrounding them and their alpha. Brega shrieked with outrage, the sound easily turning into a roar. Kian and Shawn were on edge, snarling and growling at the floor. After all, who could you blame when there was nobody in sight?

The door smashed open and Stiles stood in the threshold, a look of extreme concentration on his face. He licked his lips nervously, his brown eyes searching the air absentmindedly. Derek looked up, a look of disbelief and awe on his face. It was gone in half a second.

Chris and Allison came in on both sides of Stiles, their weapons firing into the fray. The arrows hit both the werewolves and the other hunters. Although, Chris’s shots deliberately missed the hunters. These were wolfs bane bullets, what good would it do to shoot a human with it? Plus, he didn’t know if there could be any reasoning with these hunters yet or not.  
Scott ran past them, roaring as he threw himself at Alec, grappling with the hunter. 

Through the shots, the arrows, the roars, the screams, the absolute chaos around them, Derek met Stiles’s eyes. Stiles was stood stock still in the doorway. Derek hadn’t moved either. Their eyes held each other’s for a long minute, Stiles’s held a promise that this time the past would stay in the past. Derek let out a breath of relief.


	13. Sparks fly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He roared, moving towards Alisha but her eyes had already lit up at the sight of Stiles. She ducked, sliding underneath Derek’s legs and springing back up next to Stiles. Her eyes were cold. She smiled. 
> 
> “Hello, you must be Derek’s mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like it :) a few more chapters to go! eep!

Peter and Cora joined the fight ten minutes later, their lateness due to the fact that Peter had to run through the woods to find Cora. However, they entered the fray with renewed energy, roaring at their desire to pent it towards their enemies.

Stiles had rushed straight over to Derek, letting the werewolf free of the manacles laced with wolfs bane which bound his hands to the wall. They were both currently too engaged in combat to welcome the new recruits. Scott was still fighting off Brega’s betas. Stiles glanced at Derek as Alisha managed to kick her leg so high that it hit his face.

“Derek? You ok, buddy?”

Derek shook his head, dazed. He roared, moving towards Alisha but her eyes had already lit up at the sight of Stiles. She ducked, sliding underneath Derek’s legs and springing back up next to Stiles. Her eyes were cold. She smiled.

“Hello, you must be Derek’s mate.”

Stiles fumbled to find the right words but then Derek was lurching forward, swiping a claw into her back. It didn’t cut deep but it did wreck her top. Hastily, she spun, looping one arm around Stiles, holding a gun to his temple. Stiles went absolutely still, Derek did too. Although, Stiles eyes darted frantically to the brawl of hunters and werewolves still fighting, distracted from the proceedings which were putting his life in danger.

Derek’s heart was beating at such a rabidly fast pace that Cora, having just punched Alex in the nose, looked up. Her eyes went wide. She roared loudly, a call to her pack to back down. Peter was stood next to her and immediately realised the gravity of the situation. He would have to stop hitting Ianto. There was something more important.

Everybody spared the scene a fleeting glance before freezing to the spot. Even Brega’s pack was shocked. It was a hit below the belt when somebody threatened a mate, a human. Weren’t the humans the one hunters were protecting? To kill Stiles simply to aggravate Derek, to cause him anguish, was a horrifying action. Despite whether Derek or Stiles were sure of their relationship or not, the look between the two told everybody in the room where that relationship actually stood. Scott was roaring his throat hoarse but his feet faltered as he took a step forward. He couldn’t risk Stiles’s life. Molly and Chow were howling with despair. Molly’s eyes glowed blue at Alisha, her mouth let loose a snarl of pure venom.

Alisha’s brothers nodded at her, standing to their feet and gathering their weapons. Alisha licked her lips nervously. Stiles could feel her chest panting with adrenaline. He hated it, he felt sick to his stomach, looking desperately at Derek. Derek’s gaze never wavered. He would not get another person, another human, killed because he’d loved them. That was not how this worked.

“I’m glad I finally get to meet you.” Alisha hissed.

She laughed at Derek, a cold, ruthless, slightly mad sound. She never took her eyes off of the alpha, although her words addressed Stiles.

“Because isn’t it just wonderful to see him like that? We never thought it would happen again after we read about Paige. And Kate. Oh, and Jennifer.”

Derek visibly flinched but Alisha simply laughed again.

“But here he is, the impenetrable scowls are gone. God, he’s _so open_. Vulnerability, Derek, is not a friend.” She chided, pressing the gun more firmly to Stiles’s temple.

Stiles was having trouble breathing. He forced himself to remain calm. He would not have a panic attack here. He couldn’t do that. He stared straight at Derek’s eyes, gulping down the fear lodged in his throat, his eyes watery.

“Derek.” He gasped out, pleading with the alpha.

Alisha laughed at this, Alex and Robert chuckled too. The other werewolves in the room met their laughter with stony silence. They didn’t notice that Stiles’s plea wasn’t one for help, but one to be understood. Stiles had been holding Derek’s gaze straight for so long that he knew the alpha would notice if he changed. His plea rang in Derek’s ears, even as Stiles blinked, moving his gaze subtly to the circle of mountain ash, the one which was now broken thanks to the fighting. That look told Derek to remember Stiles was a spark. And he was about to light of an explosion of events. Derek took a slow step back.

Alisha stopped laughing, frowning at him for his sudden lack of interest. Behind her, Robert opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted.

Stiles had been trying his absolute best to ignore the gun pointed at his temple, to focus on that spark inside him. The one which Deaton had been so sure existed. He had closed his eyes, pretending to do this out of dread. He felt it there, amongst the scar of darkness and the weight on his shoulders which he felt. He felt it ignite inside him, a small thing, one which was barely holding onto the fabric of life. It lit a fuse inside him, one which refused to go out. It wanted to explode.

Brega’s pack, Scott, Cora, Peter, Molly and Chow finally got the message as Derek carried on taking slow, measured steps backwards. They quickly followed suit. Alisha, Robert and Alex blinked in confusion, Alisha at last blinking at Stiles with accusation in her gaze. She opened her mouth to say something but the words never fell from her lips. However, she did fall.

Yellow, physical sparks exploded out around Stiles, her gun crashed into the wall opposite them. She was flung through the air, landing on with a groan on the hard flooring. Her brothers were propelled backwards too. For a moment, the whole room lit up as the sparks spread outwards. It was a flash of light, then it was gone. Stiles stood in the middle of the room, panting heavily and blinking at the astonished stares he was receiving.

Then, Derek was there, crossing the distance with three long strides. His arms wrapped around Stiles. His hands desperately ran through his hair, down the side of his face. He pressed their lips together with such force, such determined, passionate love that Stiles was breathless. Sparks were flying between them, metaphorically this time. He responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist and deepening the kiss.

Peter cleared his throat loudly. They broke apart, Stiles looking slightly sheepish but Derek merely glowered protectively, hooking an arm around Stiles’s waist and holding him close. Chris and Allison were already tying the hands of their hunter rivals, promising that they’d let them go after they had a rational talk.

“And I mean rational. No more lies.” Chris said as they led their temporary captives out of the room.

When the hunters had left, an awkward silence descended upon the room. Molly turned her head sharply to glare at Brega.

“Well. Are you going to say anything?” She demanded.

She didn’t seem to mind that Brega’s alpha eyes were glaring at her. Yet, Chow noticed her hands were shaking again, that she was always hiding her fear so well. He shuffled a step closer to her, placing his hand in hers. She glanced back at him, a warm smile on her face. Chow treasured it, knowing she didn’t give them out freely.

“I’m not going to apologise.”

Peter’s claws were out, he was snarling at her.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He growled.

She shot him a reproachful look.

“But I am going to back down.”

“Who thinks you have that right? Who gave that to you?” Cora demanded, her eyes searching Brega’s demandingly.

Brega shook her head, glancing at her betas. Shawn and Kian were at her side in an instant, glaring at Derek’s pack and at Scott. Brega returned her gaze to them, staring straight at Derek.

“I hope we can leave without any more fighting.”

Her eyes flickered purposely over to Stiles then back to Derek.

“I think there’s been enough innocent blood shed throughout this whole thing.”

Derek nodded slowly, understanding that when she meant ‘whole thing’ she really did mean all of it. Words and phrases roared in his mind.

Holding Paige’s hand as her life slipped away, the blood on their fingers stark red. _I knew. And you still liked me? I loved you._

The fire, his big mistake. _You’re not in love, Scott. You’re sixteen years old. You’re a child._

Kate’s face smiling at him, all the family she had killed. _She howled like a bitch, when WE CUT HER IN HALF._

Joining Vargas’s pack, only for Alisha’s family to kill one member. _They might have killed mine._

All those who had died for the scheme. Jasmine and Drake’s pale corpses. _We were supposed to stop this, Stiles!_

There been too many deaths. Too many eyes were glowing blue in this world.

“I wanted my pack’s safety. That’s all. I think you, of all people, understand how seeking to hide your past never works out well.”

He held her gaze, before allowing the smallest smile on his face. Brega frowned, a little confused by this. He tried to explain.

“Somebody was offering that advise all along.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just an update: I am in the middle of writing the next chapter but I'm also swimming in coursework so that's going to take priority for a few days. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up soon!


	14. Baby steps.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mainly family feels, as Stiles and Derek attempt to get things back on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a breather from the tension last chapter, have some family feels :)   
> Also, I am SO sorry I haven't updated in ages. I've had a lot coursework and revision to do so I had to take a step back from fanfiction. I'm really sorry about that! Anyways, hope you like this chapter :) I might put another up later today to make up for it.

It took a while for things to get back to normal. Especially, with Stiles officially Derek’s mate, so part of the pack. Scott seemed a little disgruntled at first, when Stiles smelt like another alpha, but he was supportive and kind about the matter. When Stiles had first walked into his room after visiting Derek’s flat, Scott had stiffened all over before beaming at Stiles. He turned in his chair to look at Stiles. Stiles sat down backwards on another chair, so that his torso was against the back rest. 

“So who’s dating the grumpiest wolf?” He laughed.

Stiles pulled a face but Scott was grinning, waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah. Me. Ok. I’m not ashamed to say it, he is so hot. Like really, really hot.”

Scott laughed even more at that, his beam growing quickly into a grin which stretched from ear to ear. His eyes were teasing, joking with his best friend. 

“So you just went round to check he was ok?”

“Yeah. And, uh, you know…there may have been a little lip action. Look, why are we still discussing this?” Stiles asked, arms flailing.

Scott chuckled again before the laughter died from his lips, his expression becoming serious, his eyes looking straight at Stiles’s.

“I’m really glad you’re happy.”

He could hear his best friend’s heart thumping, knew that Stiles had to be nervous about his reaction.

“Really? You’re not…” He couldn’t even say the word.

Scott did.

“Repelled? No way. You’re my best friend, Stiles. If you can like Lydia, and then like Derek I don’t care. I don’t even care if you like Greenberg.”

Stiles laughed, although there was a definite not of relief in the sound.

“Thanks, man.”

Scott nodded. Then, they abandoned the serious conversation in favour for some video games.

*

Derek sat with Peter and Cora, waiting for Stiles, Scott, Isaac, Molly and Chow to arrive. Derek was grateful for the distraction, knowing the tension to come. At least he had some time to talk as a family, something that the broken Hale pack hadn’t been much good of at late. He was prepared to accept some blame in that. 

“I still think we shouldn’t let her off so easily.”

Cora paused, turning to look directly at Derek as she continued speaking. Derek could see his ‘family time’ rapidly going downhill. 

“We need to show our strength. No more running away.”

“Don’t.” Derek gritted out between his teeth.

His stood to his feet, walking off in the hope that the movement would distract him from the conversation. Peter was observing everything quietly. He always did like to watch the pawns of the game fight it out.

“Don’t what? Tell you what you did? You left, Derek. And I…I didn’t know where you were. Again.” Her voice broke and she looked away, angry tears in her eyes.

Derek stared at her, his eyes full of desperation to take back his actions, to make it up to his family. At the same time, he knew his actions had helped him come to terms with his past, even earned them two new werewolves into the pack. And Stiles. Derek had Stiles now. Derek opened his mouth to say something, before Peter interrupted.

“Still bickering like when you were kids.” He sighed, rolling his eyes.

Derek went completely still, his eyes moving towards his uncle. Cora reacted similarly, her head snapping towards Peter, a frown of confusion in place. Peter shrugged.

“Screaming werewolf kids are difficult to forget.” He frowned as if remembering a detail. 

They waited, both with baited breath. Peter was never one for references to before the fire, or even one for much emotion other than sarcasm and anger.

“And annoying.” He added.

Derek scoffed but a small smile was playing across his mouth. Cora laughed shakily, the sound bursting out of her mouth without any intention to let it. She shook her head, smiling, her eyes still watery. 

“What did we fight about?”

Peter let out a breath, connoting with that one gesture that there were too many things to list. He shrugged, eyeing Derek jokingly. 

“One time she said she was stronger than you. She beat you in an arm wrestle.”

Derek nodded, the smile still tugging at his lips despite his attempt to keep a serious face. 

“I remember. Laura had to break us up.”

Peter looked slightly uncomfortable, but Cora talked over the silence which was dominating the first conversation they’d had about the past in a long time. 

“Mum made us run through the woods after. As a pack.” Her voice turned soft, like she could caress the memories.

Peter seemed to be staring into the distance, not fondly or even with a smile but he didn’t seem to want to let it go. His eyes searched the air, like he could see it all unfolding. 

“Talia was exasperated.” A little smirk tugged at his lips.

The door opened, Stiles, Scott, Issac, Molly and Chow walking through. Instantly, everybody was alert, the previous conversation abandoned. He stood quickly to his feet, walking straight to Stiles and nudging his cheek against the side of Stiles’s neck. Stiles let him, knowing that it was a wolfish gesture, a comfort Derek needed. When Derek pulled back, he was as blunt as usual.

“Shall we go?”

“They’re not going, are they?” Peter asked from behind them.

Peter was staring at Molly and Chow with unrestrained doubt in his expression. Molly roared, her claws out at once. She was quick to anger, her moods often shifting, and that sent a pang to Derek’s heart. He remembered holding Erica’s limp body, looking down at her still, pale face with a hopelessness in his heart that he could never put into words. 

“No. They aren’t.”

Molly stopped roaring at Peter, staring in outrage at Derek. Chow stared too, but he was shyer than Molly. He didn’t question his alpha’s decision. Molly didn’t have questions either. She had demands. 

“You said we were pack, Derek! You have to let us! We’re going too!”

He shook his head, glaring at her with sternness behind those red eyes.

“No, Molly. Stay here.” 

He moved to follow Issac, Scott and Cora out of the room. Stiles sent Molly a sympathetic expression but Peter’s amused smirk wasn’t helping anything. 

“I want to fix my past too, Derek.” Her voice held a note of fury. 

Derek turned, slowly, to look at her. His eyes weren’t angry at all. They held unbearable grief.

“And I want you to have a future. You two need rest.”

Molly had been in the process of opening her mouth to argue with him some more but she stopped, closed her mouth and looked at him with wariness. Chow nodded at him in understanding. Derek took a deep breath, before crossing the room in two strides and pulling Molly in close. She was frowning in confusion, her chin stuck out defiantly. As he pulled her towards him, she leant against him, sighing. 

“I’m so tired.” She said, her voice breaking.

Derek understood the double meaning. He held her close for a few more minutes, resting his chin against her head, seeing blonde hair like Erica’s. He knew this was someone else, he wasn’t stupid. Yet, it was still difficult. It was difficult to see things which reminded him of Boyd, or Erica, or his dead family. He breathed in the smell of her shampoo, knowing she was pack now, Chow was pack and he needed to put aside his reservations and accept the responsibility of being their alpha. He needed to do a better job than last time. 

“Thanks.” Molly said quietly.

He nodded, crossing the room to where only Stiles stood by the door now. Apparently, Peter’s patience was thin today. They left the room, Stiles linking his fingers with Derek’s as they made their way out towards the Jeep.

*

The cars all rolled to a halt outside the Argent family home. Allison must have been waiting for them because she opened the door as soon as the engines cut. They walked through, Scott holding her hand and whispering assurances as they passed. They all entered the living room, where Chris and Alisha were sitting. Stiles heard Allison whisper back to Scott, her eyes worrying. 

“We made an agreement. No people who will get aggressive.”

Stiles grimaced, looking towards Peter and Derek with doubts beginning to form in his mind. The Hale family were notorious for being aggressive. It was simply something Stiles had found that they all shared. Chris was standing, looking like he wanted to guide them back to the door already. 

“Shall we get this over with already?” Alisha asked, glaring at Derek.

Derek didn’t say anything, didn’t move a muscle. She took that as permission to carry on speaking. 

“Chris here has informed me of various codes. Things you have done. So, I am prepared to leave under the understanding should you break any codes, we will come back for you.”

The entire room of people tensed, looking towards Derek for his answer. He nodded. She raised her eyebrows, as if surprised, before standing to her feet.

“We’ll be watching closely.” She assured Derek, before walking briskly past them. 

When the door slammed closed, Stiles let out a breath of relief. He glanced at Derek, but the alpha had a thoughtful expression in place. 

“You need to be careful.” Chris addressed his words to Derek, but his eyes strayed to Peter.

Peter scoffed, rolling his eyes at the pointed look and insinuation. Derek nodded again, before leaning his lips to brush against Stiles’s ear. 

“Have you seen your dad yet?”

Stiles nodded.

“Briefly. He wants to talk to you.”

*

Peter, Cora and Isaac drove back to the flat, to Molly and Chow. Scott and Allison were staying with Chris for what could turn into an awkward lunch, given past meals. Derek and Stiles had driven in the opposite direction from Derek’s flat. They headed for Stiles’s house.

Stiles had a key. However, he barely had time to fumble with it before his dad was opening the door. John Stilinski wore a stern expression but his eyes were full of care and concern.

“How’d it go?”

“Uh, great. Yeah, fine. It was…fine. I mean, Alisha left so that’s good.”

The sheriff was wearing his uniform, back home for lunch. He stared past Stiles, his eyes landing on Derek. His mouth thinned into a line.

“Derek.” He said, as way of greeting.

Derek nodded in return, unsure what to say. He realised that running away from his pack, Stiles chasing after him, must have caused the Sheriff a lot of worry. The Sheriff sighed, like all this hostility and wariness was extremely tiring.

“Thanks for getting him back safe. But this…this doesn’t happen again, do you hear?”

He had his stern expression on, the one he mainly reserved for Stiles and the local pickpockets. Even though Derek was a mass of muscle, the Sheriff was staring him down with eyebrows raised enough to rival even Derek’s.

“Yes, Sir.” Derek agreed, his voice even.

Stiles grinned, clapping his hands together and moving forward to pass his dad.

“Great, well now that everything’s sorted-”

“Derek, do you want to stay for lunch?” The Sheriff blurted, sounding half unsure himself.

Derek blinked in shock, but he nodded again. Stiles gaped at his father, eyes narrowed in suspicion. The Sheriff shrugged.

“Whatever’s going on between you two…we need to talk about it.”

Stiles flung his arms out with exasperation, laughing a little at how ridiculous this was. Even when the laughter fell awkwardly from his lips, he was still grinning, eyes questioning his father’s.

“There’s nothing to talk about! I love Derek, he loves me.”

The Sheriff groaned, massaging his temples with his fingers as he led the way into the house.

“Baby steps, Stiles. Baby steps.”


	15. Within you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. And hard-core training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter-enjoy! :) I think there might be one more left to write-eep!

Stiles and Derek managed to survive lunch with Stiles’s dad, the biggest argument surfacing being that about which football team played better. To Sheriff Stilinski’s disdain, Stiles insisted they ate a healthy, nutritional meal.

“Come on, it’s not like Derek is packing on the pounds.”

The Sheriff gestured towards Derek whilst giving Stiles a disgruntled expression.

“No, but you might. Healthy.” Stiles insisted, heaping more salad onto their plates.

Derek tried, and failed, to hide the small, amused smirk which twitched at the corners of his lips. When they had finished their meal, the Sheriff sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. He glanced at the clock and stood to his feet, reaching out a hand for Derek to shake. As Derek shook it, the Sheriff excused himself.

“I’ve got to get back to work. Stay out of trouble!”

This last was directed mainly to Stiles, his dad giving him a pointed look. Stiles gasped in mock indigence, arms flailing, knocking off the salad dressing from the table. Derek caught it quickly, with his usual werewolf reflexes, before it hit the ground.

The Sheriff was already out of the door. A few minutes later, the sound of his car driving away reached them. Stiles glanced sideways at Derek, waggling his eyebrows.

“Ever watched Star Wars?”

Derek opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it. He honestly had no idea what to say.

*

It was only twenty minutes into the episode and Derek was already getting confused. At Derek’s fifth question, Stiles flung his arms up and looked at Derek, grinning with a scoff at Derek’s frown of confusion.

“Come on, dude! How can you not find it believable, just roll with it! You’re a freaking werewolf, it shouldn’t be too hard-”

Stiles was interrupted by Derek’s lips pressing against his, pulling Stiles closer towards him. Stiles made a slight choking noise as his words never made it out of his mouth, but responded eagerly to Derek’s idea. Derek had been overwhelmed with affection as Stiles had flailed and gestured, words falling from his lips in the usual tumble. He hadn’t appreciated it before, it could get annoying sometimes, but right in that moment it was beautiful. It was just Stiles. Every movement and breath screaming out passion and bold opinions.

Derek placed a hand on Stiles’s side, trailing it up and down, practically smoothing over Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles felt like he could melt into Derek’s arms. He clutched desperately at Derek’s hair with his fingers, as Derek cupped his jaw and tilted Stiles’s head towards him. Derek’s tongue flicked along Stiles’s lips, teasing, before he deepened the kiss. The sound of a robot voice made Derek jump out of his skin. Stiles laughed as Derek’s eyes glared red at the screen. C-3PO, accused robot, was oblivious as he carried on talking on screen.

*

“Fifty.” Cora said, a note of finality in her voice.

“Thank God.” Molly breathed.

She dropped lightly onto the floor, from where she had been doing pull ups on the random bar which ran its way around the flat’s wall. It was probably for sewage or water, not for practising werewolf strength.

“Can I stop too?” Chow asked, panting as he did another press up.

Peter glanced up, from where he was lounging comfortably on the settee. His expression of mild surprise said it all.

“Oh, yeah. Good job sport.” He drawled, returning to the book he was reading.

Chow sighed with relief, sagging his entire weight onto the floor. Molly laughed, gently kicking his side with the toe of her boot.

“Lazy pants.”

Cora laughed as she resumed where Molly had left off, doing her own pull ups on the bar. Molly scrunched up her nose, wondering how Cora did so voluntarily. She only did it for training, to make Derek proud of them, to make sure he wouldn’t regret the decision to allow them into his pack. As Molly reached a hand down to help Chow to his feet, Isaac walked down the spiral staircase, sniffing the air.

“Derek’s pulled up. Stiles is with him. And Deaton.” He announced.

The words had barely left his mouth when Stiles, Derek and Deaton walked through the door. Peter raised his eyebrows at them. Isaac, grabbing his scarf and twisting it around his neck, seemed mildly amused.

“I need to go see Scott. I think he’s probably finished having lunch. We were going to take Mama Mcall out for her birthday.”

Stiles perked up.

“Tell her I’ll drop by later.”

“Sure.” Isaac agreed, giving a last awkward nod in Derek’s direction before leaving.

Cora dropped to the ground and straightened up, like a cat dropping from a tree. She walked over to them, expression demanding.

“What’s this about?”

“Training.” Deaton said clearly.

Molly and Chow groaned. Derek’s eyes flickered towards them, an amused smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

“We’ll carry on. Molly and Chow can have a break.” He said to Peter and Cora.

They nodded, Peter standing to his feet with a melodramatic sigh. Molly beamed, flouncing over to the settee and taking Peter’s place, Chow followed somewhat more meekly. Peter was glaring daggers at them. Derek coughed pointedly. Peter and Cora both followed his lead with exercising routines. Deaton turned to Stiles.

“It’s your training too, Stiles.”

Stiles pulled a face but complied, walking over to Deaton and waiting for his next instructions. Molly and Chow turned to look, their interest peeked.

“There is a spark inside you, Stiles. You can access it. Like a persistent feeling, or a nagging thought. It’s always there. Just open your mind to it. It’s like reaching for-”

Stiles nodded quickly in understanding, he already knew what it was like.

“A light.” He said, his voice serious.

Deaton nodded, a small, pleased smile on his face. His eyes were kind as he gestured for Stiles to get to it. Stiles sighed deeply, closing his eyes and searching. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, where to search for that light.

“It’s a spark within you, Stiles.”

Stiles took a deep breath, the sounds of Peter, Cora and Derek moving about in the flat filling his ears. He blocked them out. He forgot his audience of Molly and Chow. He forgot how Deaton was patiently waiting for something to happen, believing it would. He searched and he found it. Right there, in his chest, a feeling of anticipation, of something about to happen. In his head was a thought, waiting beneath the surface of all the everyday ones, like it had been expecting Stiles for many years and hadn’t mind his attention straying. Like that was okay. Like everything was ok, if he could just take that one step closer towards that feeling, that thought, becoming reality.

It burst out of him, a shockwave rippling through the air, blasting straight through even the plaster of the walls, knocking the bookcase backwards, sending the settee toppling over. Molly and Chow shrieked with surprise and laughter, their legs dangling in the air. Stiles peeped and eye open. Derek was staring at him from across the room, his eyes holding open astonishment.

“Surprise?” Stiles offered.

*

After an afternoon of training, the pack had been extremely tired. Only Derek offered to accompany Stiles to Scott’s house, the rest of them insisting they were exhausted. Stiles buckled his seat belt into the Jeep as Derek climbed into the passenger seat.

“Thanks for coming, man. You didn’t have to. I know with Isaac and Scott…”

“Stiles. I want to come. She’s saved our collective asses more time than I can count.” Derek said, his tone one of somebody trying to prove a point.

Stiles laughed as he stopped at a red light, glancing over at Derek.

“You know when you interrupted me by kissing me? Which was totally fine by the way, awesome. It’s just…why?”

Derek raised his eyebrows in shock. Stiles squinted his eyes with suspicion and exaggerated annoyance.

“Uh, no. I know what you’re doing, you are not getting out of this with your judgemental eyebrows, buddy. Okay? It’s not happening, no way.”

Derek rolled his eyes.

“I’m just surprised you didn’t realise that it’s because I am insanely attracted to you. All of you. That includes the stupid ramblings, the way you gesticulate with your hands, when you get so excited that you fall of your seat. Your personality.”

Stiles gaped, one arm still one the wheel but his body turned towards Derek. His eyes were filled with incredulity. Derek’s tone was so matter of fact, like the same things didn’t annoy half the people Stiles knew.

“I love you, and everything within you. Everything which makes you…you.”

Stiles gaped for another whole minute.

“Stiles?”

Stiles blinked slowly, nodding.

“The light’s been green for a full minute now.”


	16. Fezzes are cool.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melissa's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the last chapter! Eep! I know it's not very long but I just wanted to add it so I could round everything up nicely. I hope you guys enjoy it and thanks so, so much for any kudos or comments! Feel free to read any of my other stuff. My tumblr is http://shuckingwolves.tumblr.com/

They arrived on time to the restaurant, despite delaying at those traffic lights. They headed over for the table decorated with ‘Happy birthday’ banners. Stiles nodded at Scott.

“Good job, buddy.”

Scott positively beamed proudly, even his eyes were smiling. They seated themselves. Isaac and Melissa were already at the table, Melissa sat at the head. They wished her a happy birthday and she smiled pleasantly in thanks. Stiles walked over and gave her a peck on the cheek, handing her tickets to a local spa. Food had already been ordered from them, so Stiles sat back down and they started wolfing it down straight away. After a few moments, Melissa tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She had been talking to Stiles but Stiles was becoming increasingly difficult to understand over the mouthfuls he was swallowing. She looked up at Derek, polite interest on her face.

“So, Derek, Stiles tells me that werewolves can take pain away with their veins? How does that work exactly?”

Derek leant forward, his elbows resting on the table, and explained it as simply as he could. Melissa nodded, no doubt interested because of the medical advantages the werewolf power had. Scott glanced over at her, beaming, his eyes scrunching with the happiness of his expression, looking for all the world like a content puppy. He lifted his glass.

“Happy birthday, mum.”

Melissa glanced down, slightly embarrassed but smiled and thanked them all. Then, something happened. The door to the restaurant opened. At once, the werewolves in the room were alert but it was only Sheriff Stilinski, holding a bouquet of flowers. Stiles’s eyebrows rose but his dad deliberately avoided his gaze. He seemed slightly embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, holding the bouquet out with the other. Melissa stood to her feet, walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. When they pulled back, John was slightly red in the face. Melissa smiled kindly, holding the flowers up for closer inspection.

“I think these will need a big vase.”

The Sheriff nodded, drinking in the information seriously, before following her to sit at the table. The Sheriff reached straight for the curly fries but Stiles slapped his hand away. The Sheriff gave him a disgruntled look but rolled his eyes and opted for some healthier food. The pleasant chattering around them eased the tension of the past few days, Stiles relaxing against his seat. Derek leant forward, his lips brushing Stiles’s ear.

“I looked at the site for experiences on your laptop, the one you got Melissa’s spa tickets from.”

Stiles turned his head, wiggling his eyebrows demandingly. Derek sighed, but Stiles narrowed his eyes at the supposedly annoyed gesture. If he looked closely enough, he could swear Derek was smirking. Derek leant an arm against the table, looking at Stiles sideways on. Yes, there was totally a smirk there. Stiles gaped.

“What did you order?”

Now, Derek was definitely smirking, like the proudest alpha in all of Beacon Hills. Stiles pondered that for a minute, realising that maybe that was Scott’s place tonight. Considering, Scott’s mum was glowing with happiness, seated next to the Sheriff.

“Two train tickets to nowhere.”

“Oh no, no this is not happening again buddy!”

“Stiles, relax. I just want to make it up to you.” Derek looked down, not shy but ashamed.

Stiles fumbled for words, not realising that Derek felt so guilty about everything all of the time! He didn’t need to feel guilty about this. Stiles placed his hand over Derek’s, watched as Derek locked their hands together.

“But we’re coming back this time!”

Derek snorted.

“You sound like one of the doctor’s companions.”

Stiles almost fell backwards from shock, mouth gaping, eyes animated.

“I knew you’d carry on watching Doctor Who!”

Derek tried to shrug it off, Isaac and Scott were shooting them incredulous looks.

“Fezzes are cool.”

*

True to his word, Derek did bring them straight back home. But not before they rented a room in a hotel. As Derek opened the door, he kept in mind that their making-out session had to stop before eight o’clock. Doctor Who was on and Stiles would kill him if they missed an episode. As they entered their hotel room, Stiles threw his arms out to make his point.

“Well this is a step up from last ti-”

His words never made it from his lips, Derek had closed the door and was kissing him fiercely, shoving him against the wall. Stiles kissed back with equal passion, running his hands through Derek’s hair, as Derek bite down on his lip. Stiles responded by clutching at Derek’s trouser loops, pulling Derek closer. Their lips moved seamlessly together, passionate at first but then gentle, like there was something to be cradled and nurtured between them. Derek pulled back. As they panted in the room, Derek leant his forehead against Stiles’s.

“Don’t leave me.” Stiles whispered.

“Never again.”

*

Stiles woke up the next morning, curled in the sheets, warm and content. They had fallen asleep not long after Doctor Who. It had been a tiring journey. Stiles sighed, holding his breath as his eyes fluttered open. The room was becoming too light to sleep for much longer, the gap in the curtains allowing the rays to leek in.He let out his breath in releif, smiling as he saw Derek's face next to him, the alpha's arms draped around him. Stiles snuggled closer, happy with the knowledge that this time, Derek had stayed.


End file.
